


Less Than F#&king Perfect: A Semi-Charmed Life

by LesbianCalamity



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Violence, F/F, Good Cora Mills, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, Past Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Dr. Facilier | Baron Samdi, Past Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Maleficent, Past Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood, Post-Divorce, Racism, Recreational Drug Use, Roland is Regina's Son, Slow Build Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Slow Burn, no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-03-21 07:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13735632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianCalamity/pseuds/LesbianCalamity
Summary: It's been five years since Emma stopped being Mrs. Jones and she's trying to settle into her new life in a new place. But the past haunts her and her family. After treading the murky waters of recovery she finds an unlikely ally in Regina Mills, who does more than just guide her to heal but also teaches Emma to trust her heart again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Child Abuse, Mild Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Coping with Past Abuse. (I'll be putting specific trigger warnings in chapters when they are relevant.)
> 
> Note: This fic is dealing with subject matter that is deeply personal to me. I might not have lived through some of these situations (as I’m pretty sure the character I identify with the most in this fict is probably Henry), people that are extremely close to me went through versions of this.
> 
> Writing Note: This fict is unbetaed. The mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, universes or whatever the hell else. They belong to Disney, ABC etc, etc. I claim no rights to copyrighted material and this story is purely for entertainment purposes.

Trigger Warnings: For depictions of domestic violence. 

   


Take it from the girl you claim to love you're gonna get some bad karma.  
I'm the one who had to learn to build a heart made of armor.  
From the girl who made you soup and tied your shoes when you were hurting,  
You are not deserving.  
— Drowning, Banks

* * *

She sat down in his recliner and lit a cigarette with a glass of whiskey on the TV tray next to her. Everything was packed, her boy sleeping in front seat of her truck. It was all set up. She was ready to go and never look back. There was just one thing left to do.  


  


2 AM.

  


He’d be home any minute. And she was ready for him this time. This time she wouldn’t back down. She’d remind him who he married. What did her sister always say?

  


“Emma, sometimes you have to put on your hat, grab your broom, and show them what kind of witch they’re fucking with.”

  


It made her smile, though she winced. A busted lip, preceded by 6 years of abuse had stolen her smile. But tonight she was taking it back. No more, was her mantra as she smoked with her old service pistol resting casually in her lap. Her expression was neutral but she felt tired and terrified. And smoking helped to keep her from shaking with worry. Because there was no going back from this, she had to do it.

  


For her son. For her sanity. She had to make this stop.

  


And she would tonight.

  


She heard the pop and rumble from his pickup before she saw the lights beam into their livingroom. Gravel was being kicked up by his tires as he rolled to a stop just outside.

  


She finished her glass as he got out, his boot crunching with every step as he drew closer to the front door. She hadn’t heard her boy yet. But she heard him, her husband and his labored breaths, cursing as he fumbled for his keys. 

  


“Oi!” he called. “Mrs. Jones! Love! Open the bloody door, eh?”

  


Her hand went for the gun but she didn’t make a move to help him. She was done with that. Now and always. Never again would she be used by him. Never again would she serve as his punching bag.

  


The doorknob turned and her stomach sank but she stayed strong and squared her shoulders with the cigarette hanging from her lips. 

  


“Emma,” her husband called out as he stumbled over the threshold. “What the fu—”

  


He stopped when he saw the gun, sobering up immediately. 

  


“Have a sit, Killian,” she said, pointing to the couch with her pistol. “We need to talk.”

  


“I will when you put down that gun, love,” he told her, swaying as he stood.

  


Emma shook her head. “No dice, Killy. Have a sit before I run out of patience.”

  


He sat down, slowly, his eyes never leaving her or the gun in her hands. She could smell the rum on him even from five feet away. It was nights like this he’d come home, falling into bed, reeking of booze and perfume. And every time she told herself this would be the last straw. The last time. And the next day as she cleaned herself up in the bathroom early in the morning so her son wouldn’t see what his stepfather had done the night before, Killian would act as sweet as can be, doting on her, reminding her why she loved him, why she married him, and why she stayed. And every time she convinced herself that he would get better. She made excuses for him. It was just his job. He was just stressed. She could be a better wife. A more understanding partner. 

  


Emma felt like a fool.

  


But no more. Not ever again.

  


“So what are you going to do with that gun, love?” Killian asked.

  


“That depends on you,” Emma replied as she stood. “I’m leaving you. Tonight. Don’t follow me. Don’t try and find me. You’ll get served divorce papers in the next few weeks. And you will sign them. And then this shit show we called a marriage will be over and I will never have to deal with you in my life ever again.”

  


“And if I don’t?” he challenged. 

  


She cocked the pistol, pulling the hammer back. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Because I kept records, Killy. Of everything. Not just what you did to me. But the stuff you do on the job and you think no one notices. I’ve got it all.”

  


“You’d sell me out, love? After everything I did for you?”

  


She almost chuckled. “Again, that depends on you, Killian. You leave me and my son alone, you give me my quick and quiet divorce and no one needs to know what a bad boy you’ve been. You make this hard for me, or for Henry in any way… And what I have on you gets sent to the DA, your Captain, and any news outlets that want the ratings. I will bury you, Killian.”

  


“Not if I bury you first love,” Killian fired back, his voice low and menacing.

  


Emma drew the gun, aimed it down and to the right and BANG! One warning shot into the floorboards. It was satisfying watching him jump for a change, watching the fear light up his eyes. 

  


“That sounded a lot like a threat,” Emma began. “There’s not a jury in the country that will convict me if I shoot you. Cop or not. You remember who my father was Killian. That’s the only reason you’re where you are today. Because of my last name. Because of my family connections.”

  


“You’re gonna just leave and then what?” he asked, changing tactics. “Who’s gonna want you? Who’s gonna love you? No one. I’m the only one that’s been there for you. You, a washed up cop with a brat from a dead guy. You really want to be twice divorced and a single mother again?”

  


“Anything would be better than being Mrs. Killian Fucking Jones.” She pointed the gun at him. “I’m leaving. And you’re not going to stop me. Understand?”

  


“Fuck you.”

  


This time she did chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  


She went for the door and he didn’t stop her. She made it down the steps of their front porch and he didn’t give chance. She stood in front of his truck for a moment and thought about slashing his tires, just to be sure he wouldn’t follow her. 

  


And that’s when he struck. 

  


Killian threw his full weight into her, slamming Emma against the truck with a thud. His hand was in her hair before she could stop him and he wrenched her head back.

  


“I’m never letting you go, Emma,” he whispered. “You. Are. Mine.”

  


He drove her face into the hood, once, twice, three times before she slumped forward and he let her fall to the ground.

  


“You’re gonna try and run from me?” he asked, kicking her in the stomach. “FROM ME!? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

  


He kicked her again, and again. Every time she thought she could take a breath he rammed his boot into her chest hard enough to force out all of the air from her lungs. 

  


She didn’t see him pick up her gun but she heard it. She felt it in his voice. “To death do us part, love. That’s what we promised. And you’re going to make good on your word.”

  


Emma saw the metal from the knife in his boot. She had moments to save her life and her sons. Because there was no way, Killian was leaving him alive if he killed her. She crawled over to him, whimpering because that’s what he wanted to see; her brought low, begging for mercy. So she gave him exactly that. Emma pleaded as she wrapped herself around his legs. And he smiled down at her as he lowered the gun.

  


“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  


“Why do you make me do these thing to you, Emma?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Can you see that I love you? I love you so much.”

  


“I know, baby,” she told him. “I know you do.”

  


When she heard him drop the pistol to stroke her hair, she knew she had him. Emma grabbed the knife as she forced him to the ground with her body weight. He swatted at her but she sliced at his arms and hands until he stopped, taking the discarded pistol and putting it right beneath his chin. He froze as she leaned in.

  


“No. More.” 

  


Before he could ask what she meant, Emma took the knife in her off hand and stabbed his left wrist, staking him to the ground. As he howled in pain she stood up slowly, dusting the dirt from her jeans, and shot out his tires. He wasn’t going to follow her. She made certain of that.

  


Emma ignored him as he called for her, promising that he’d find her, that he’d always find her. She had no doubt that he’d try. But at least she’d make him think twice about following through with it. He’d look down at that mangled thing he would call a hand and he’d remember what she did to him the last time they saw each other.

  


Emma opened the truck door and slowly got in, her muscles already protesting any movement.

  


“Mom?” her boy’s voice rang out, thick with sleep and fear. He must have woken up in the middle of all this. Because even sleepy, his eyes were widen, pupils terror blown as he looked up at her with the same blue-green hazel color as her own. He looked so young, barely ten, but he was small for his age. However, his eyes held a weight behind them, burden of trauma had aged him in ways Emma couldn't even begin to understand.

  


“It’s okay, kid,” she assured him, brushing his hair back with her hand.  “This is the last time.”

  


Henry sat up and looked at his stepfather lying on the ground, unfazed by his appearance. “You promise?”

  


“Cross my heart, Henry,” she replied as she started the truck and backed out of the driveway, dialing 911 from her cell phone. “Never again.”

  


A few hours later She had ditched her beloved truck. The old girl was on her last legs but that pickup had seen her through some of the best times of her life. She kissed her first boy in this truck. She kissed her first girl there too. Henry’s father proposed in this truck. They undoubtedly conceived their son here. Hell, she almost gave birth to her son in this truck. 

  


But that was her old life. Where she became nothing more than Mrs. Killian Jones. And her truck had been a part of that old life. So she ditched it; traded it in for an old VW Beetle. It was a bright sunshine yellow. But it wasn’t something he’d think to look for. It was so uncharacteristically her that it was perfect. Then it was just a matter of cashing in a few favors and it was like Emma Jones had died that night. 

  


“Mom?” They were just outside of Washington when he woke.

  


“Go back to sleep, kid,” she told him as she pulled off the main highway onto a back road. 

  


“Why are you stopping though?” his little voice rasped out, thick with sleep.

  


“There’s just something I have to do, Henry,” she told him as she pulled over to a camp rest stop. She left the car idling.  “Don’t open the car for anyone not me. Honk if there’s trouble I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  


He grabbed her wrist as she tried to slip out of the car. “Mom…”

  


Emma couldn’t fault him for not wanting to part from her. And honestly she couldn’t think of a good enough reason for him to stay in the car. So with a sigh, she relented. “Come on, Henry. But on your beanie and your jacket. It’s cold.”

  


He did what she asked and they piled out of the car. Emma dug around the backseat for a small duffle bag that contained a few things she needed and met him at the front of the Bug, offering her hand which he took. They walked in silence to one of the fire pits with Henry crushing her hand with his. He’d been like this since they left. Emma couldn’t fault him for that either. She understood. 

  


“Just stand back, kid,” she instructed and when he nodded, stepping back, Emma reached into the bag. She pulled out a black leather jacket and charcoal lighter fluid. Tossing the jacket into the fire pit she doused it with enough lighter fluid to set a house on fire. Then she lit a match and threw it into the fire pit. The leather went up in a fireball. And it felt — cathartic. 

  


Killian had given her this jacket. To match his. This jacket meant the loss of her identity. It meant six years of hell. It meant tying herself to a man that she had wanted because he wanted her and she thought she’d never get another chance. And he made her believe it. But now that was over. She was free. And her kid was safe. 

  


That’s all that mattered.

  


“Mom?” Henry piped up. 

  


She smiled, softly and waited for the jacket to burn to unrecognizable tatters of burnt leather before she offered her hand to him as she put out the fire. 

  


“Is it all over?” the kid asked. “We’re not going back right?”

  


Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them away and managed to nod. “Yeah, kid. We’re never going back to that.”

  


“Promise?”

  


She drew an X over her heart. “Cross my heart.”


	2. Chapter 1

Emma woke up in a good mood, to sticky fingers on her cheeks. She looked down at the little boy with crystal blue eyes and straw-colored hair that was little wisps of loose curls that couldn’t not be tamed. She smiled and kissed the top of his head. It was a good day. That’s what she told herself. 

 

It was good day.

 

The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. There was actually a nice cool breeze coming in from the coast. And her youngest actually napped. 

 

It was actually a good day. 

 

The first in a long time. 

 

Nothing was going to get her down. 

 

It took a long time but Emma had finally gotten back to good… ish? Good adjacent? Meh… Good enough. And like with most revelations of bliss, the second it entered her mind, that’s when Emma’s cell phone rang, rumbling on the nightstand. 

 

It was the high school. 

 

Dammit. 

 

Henry. 

 

Shit.

 

Still in bed, Emma reached over and answered it. Her voice was calm despite the wave of anxiety that washed over her as she sat up and kicked off her blankets..

 

“Emma Swan speaking.”

 

“Ms. Swan, good afternoon,” the school administrator greeted. “I wish I could be calling with better news.”

 

Fuck...

 

“Your son, along with another classmate have been involved in an altercation with a few other boys here. And it would be prudent of you to come down here so we can discuss this.”

 

_ Fuck me _ , Emma mouthed, listening to the school administrator. “Yes, I can be there in 25 minutes.”

 

“If you could be here sooner…”

 

That wasn’t going to happen. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“Thank you, Ms. Swan.”

 

“No, thank you. We’ll sort this out when I get there.” Emma hung up and kissed the top of her son’s head again. 

 

“Hey, bud… time to wake up,” she said, rousing him as gently as possible. He still woke up wide-eyed and confused like he had slept years. Definitely one of her kids. Then he blinked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first. And he smiled, squeezing her cheeks.

 

“Mommy…”

 

“It’s time to get up, buddy.”

 

He slumped onto her and whined. She just chuckled. “I know, Chris. But we gotta go see your big bro.”

 

He perked up at that. “Henwy?”

 

“Yup. Henry. So we gotta get up and go.”

 

“Ok, I put on shoes?” he asked, climbing out of bed. 

 

Emma nodded. “And a jacket.”

 

“Mommy help?”

 

“Always, buddy. But I gotta get ready first. So go watch cartoons until I get you.”

 

“Ok. I go. I wove you, evewyday all of the days, mommy.”

 

“I love you forever, Christopher Robert Swan.”

 

He grinned and she could see his father’s smile in that face. He had her unruly hair. But he had Killian’s face, his eyes, his nose, and his cheeky grin. Henry was the opposite. He had inherited his father’s dark hair. But he had her eyes and her dimples. However, Christopher looked so strikingly similar to Killian that it startled her sometimes. If his hair was dark… he’d be his spitting image. And she felt guilty when she wondered if he wasn’t a tiny little toehead like she has been would she love him less.

 

Emma sighed and watched him totted away to put on Super Why or Little Einsteins. He had a scary mastery of technology but that was his generation. He didn’t even know the struggle of the analog life, of dial-up and pagers. When threeway calling was a leap forward in the history of human technological advancement. 

 

When he left the room she hurried out of bed. It wasn’t easy. She was in her mid 30s. And while she still looked relatively young, her body protested every movement like someone twice her age. Her joints popped and cracked painfully as she made it to the bathroom. It was worse during those cold mornings. It wasn’t bad today. But it wasn’t great either. 

 

She had bad knees, and a bum shoulder. Her wrists and hands were always sore after a 40-hour work week. Her whole body hurt most days and she was almost always perpetually tired. She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore that was for sure. Emma had left her youthful vigor in her early 20s. The passage of time was most noticeable when she looked at herself in the mirror. The laugh lines and the faint crow’s feet. Her sea green eyes had lost a bit of their luster, and behind her gaze was whatever happens when lofty idealism was replaced with cynical realism. 

 

Emma was just exhausted. 

 

This business with Henry wasn’t helping. He’d hit his teenage years with a fiery, angsty vengeance. But she supposed the only way through this was getting it over with as soon as possible. Emma couldn’t fault her son. He came by his behavior honestly. Emma had an angsty phase herself at around his age. Thankfully, she was just old enough to miss the rise of the Emo scene. But she did have a grudge phase that clothing wise she hadn’t really moved passed. Which is probably today’s outfit will consist of holey jeans, a tank top. Slap on some boots and a red leather jacket and she was good to go. 

 

Then it was just a matter of getting Chris ready. He was somehow sticky. Always sticky for some reason. So she gave him a quick wipe down, which he hated of course. And then she helped him into his shoes and jacket, and brushed his hair back.

 

“Hat?”

 

“If you want.”

 

“I want.”

 

“Ok.”

 

She handed him a tiny little Mets cap and he put in on.

 

“Go see Henwy now?”

 

She smiled and held out her hand. “Yup, buddy.”

 

Five minutes later she was pulling into a space in the visitors’ lot at the High School. Small towns were small. Her anxiety was kicking into high gear. She sat in her Bug for a good two minutes just staring off, zoning out. 

 

“Mommy?” a little voice spoke up from behind her. 

 

Blinking herself out of it, she nodded. “Hey buddy, mommy is going to step out and smoke. You gotta stay inside the car for a little bit. But I’m going to be right outside. You’ll be able to see me. I’m going leave the music on for you”

 

“But mommy, I wanna go wit’ you,” he whined. 

 

“We talked about this, little man. You can’t be with mommy when she smokes.”

 

Christopher crossed his arms and stuck his lip. “I hate when you do the smoking, mommy.”

 

That gutted Emma a little. He used to cry. Now he would get angry. She needed to quit. But — she wasn’t quitting today. She was already later than she said by a few minutes so it was cigarette time. And besides, she was about to walk into who-knew-what and she could use the five minutes to decompress. So she left the air conditioning and music on, handed Chris his little tablet and stepped outside. She ditched the jacket for a moment before she closed the door behind her. The parking lot was devoid of people so a quick cigarette wasn’t going to hurt anyone but her. Maybe she could enjoy a few minutes of peace.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Or not.

 

“This is a Smoke-Free campus.”

 

Emma gave the newcomer a once over. They were about the same height. Though it was hard to be sure, between her boots and this woman’s heels, it was anyone’s guess. She was dressed for a business meeting, sensible black slacks, vest to match, and underneath that was a plain white blouse. The woman was striking. Light olive complexion, dark, possibly black hair; trimmed to frame her face. The makeup was subtle too, only there to accent her features not to cover them up.

 

“I think it’ll be ok just this one time.”

 

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” the woman asked, a slight sneer, curling her lip. She had seen this kind of scrutiny before. The woman examined the tattoos that covered the backs of her hands up to her shoulders. There were ones near her collarbone that were visible too. And some that ended down under her tanktop that weren’t. And she had more than few other pieces on her back, legs and stomach that were impressive too. But she wasn’t nearly as covered at the two almost complete sleeves that she sported almost proudly.  

 

Emma shrugged. “I thought about ducking into the girls’ bathroom but then I thought, better not, too cliche. Besides… four year-old in the car.”

 

“The very fact you’d smoke in front of the child.”

 

“He’s in the car.”

 

“And you would just leave him in there?”

 

“The AC is on, the windows are up, and he’s got his tablet. He’s gonna be fine for five minutes.”

 

The woman’s nostrils flared and her back straightened. “I suggest you put that cigarette out, Miss.”

 

“Emma,” Emma offered, making a show of smoking her cigarette. “Well, just. Emma. No Miss needed.”

 

The woman blustered at her words. But her recover was quick. “If you don’t put out that cigarette, I will be forced to speak with the principal.”

 

“Oh, good,” Emma replied, taking another drag. “Tell her that I’m going to be about—” She looked at the half smoked cancer stick. “Two or so minutes. I’ve got a meeting with her.” The woman blinked at her but didn’t back off and Emma had had about enough. “Look, lady, I’m a single mother of two and it’s been a stressful day that was preceded by a few stressful decades. So you’ve got two options. One, go about your business. Or two, inhale deeply. Either way, I need this and I’m not putting it out. So, are we going to have a problem or can I finish this in peace? Your move.”

 

The woman took a step forward; so close that Emma caught the scent of her perfume. But she had no time to admire it because she was focused on the expression on her face. She had never seen someone this angry refrain from throwing a punch. But she had. Good for her. “I’m not someone you want to upset. And you’ve succeeded in that spectacularly. Enjoy your cigarette.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma said with a grin and then watched the woman leave. She mumbled to herself, “Super nice lady.”

 

She finished her cigarette and got herself and Christopher together before she closed up the car. 

 

“You stink, mommy.”

 

“You stink.”

 

Chris shook his head as they walked toward the office. Well, she walked. He was in her arms, his head resting on her shoulder. “No. I didn’t do stinkies,”

 

She laughed. This kid. He was just the cutest sometimes. And Emma had to pat herself on the back. She made cute kids. At least there was that. That was her train of thought when she walked into the main office. There was an older woman behind the desk. Emma never got her name though she thought to herself that she should. 

 

“Hi, I’m Emma Swan, I’m here to see the principal about my son, Henry.”

 

The older woman smiled. “Oh, yes. Henry. He’s a good kid.” She stood to give Chris’ hand a little shake. “And who’s this young man?”

 

“Can you tell this nice lady your name, buddy?” Emma asked her son, who was burying his face into her shoulder. “Come on, buddy. You can do this.”

 

“Chwistopuah.”

 

“That’s right, Christopher.”

 

The older woman chuckled. “Aren’t you the cutest thing?”

 

“Right? I make cute kids.” Emma laughed and leaned on the desk. “But listen, you think you can put in a good word for my eldest with the warden?”

 

“Oh, no. You’ve got that covered,” the administrator said. “Have a seat. You can chat with Roland’s mother while you wait.”

 

“Henry got in trouble with Roland?”

 

“You sound surprise. Those two are as thick as thieves.”

 

She wasn’t. And the older woman was right. Henry didn’t have many friends. And the one name that came up more often than not at home was Roland’s. But Emma had never met him. She asked. However Henry was less than thrilled about the idea. So she didn’t push. He seemed like a good kid from her son’s stories about him. So it was odd that they were both here in trouble together. 

 

“Thank you,” Emma said before she turned around to take a seat and what saw her stopped her in her tracks. The woman from the parking lot was sitting down, almost gaping at her. 

 

“You’re Henry’s mother?” she asked, unable to keep the shock from her voice. 

 

“Hi…” Emma greeted, sheepishly. 

  
Before they could say anything else, the principal walked out of his office. “Ms. Mills, Ms. Swan, if you would follow me, please. I believe we have some matters to discuss.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for the use of two racial slurs.

“As you both know this school has strict rules regarding violence committed against students.”

 

Emma never liked the principal. Shady asshole. He made her feel uneasy. He was off putting. And there was something about his tone, and the way he smiled that made him seem disingenuous and insincere. 

 

“But we didn't start that fight,” Henry piped up from his chair. The look Emma shot him silenced her eldest before he continued. She took a deep breath in and out through her nose and turned away from Henry. Emma didn’t have to wonder when he got that from. That was her DNA written all over the boy’s face that she couldn’t even be mad. It was just not the time for that right now. 

 

“That may be the case—” the principal began.

 

However, “Ms. Mils” pressed on with Henry’s words. “That is actually what Roland told me as well. So I am interested in hearing exactly what started this alterication.” 

 

“The reason for the fight—”

 

Again Ms. Mills cut the administrator off. “—would give us some insight on how to prevent this from happening again. Yes. I agree.”

 

Emma’s lips quirked in a soft smile. Despite what happened in the parking lot, she was beginning to like this woman. Having squared up with her, Emma knew exactly how intimidating she could be. She respected someone that could make people quake with just a glance. Especially in a sensible pants suit. 

 

“Regina, I hardly think —”

 

Ms. Mills — Regina, she didn’t appreciate the familiarity. Emma could see it in her expression, pupils zeroing to pinpoints, jaw set tight. If this was the African Savannah… the principal was a gisel and Regina was a lioness in the grass. 

 

“Ms. Mills,” she corrected, curtly. “For the purposes of this meeting, George.”

 

Emma turned in her chair to look at the boys both sitting quietly. Henry was on the left of the small couch, Roland on the right. Two gangly boys that hadn’t grown into themselves yet. 15 was an awkward year for anyone and these boys certainly weren’t immune to that. 

 

Henry was taller but only slightly. Pale skin and long arms. Emma could see more of Neal and less of herself in the boy with each passing day. He was losing his cheeks — her cheeks, his eyes were still the same green that hers were. But with his dark hair and lithe frame; there were times Emma swore she was looking at Neal in the almost 20 years ago. He was dressed in straight legged blue jeans, and a superhero t-shirt, Spider-Man, or Captain America it seemed from the blue and red peeking out from under a red hoodie. It wasn’t Superman. Emma had heard enough of Henry’s rants about the Zach Synder DC films to know that her eldest wasn’t a fan. His Avengers ballcap was resting on one of his bent knees; probably couldn’t wear it indoors. 

 

Roland was sitting up a little straighter than her son. Dark tan skin in contrast to the majority of white faces in the room. He had his mother’s eyes, but his hair wasn’t as dark as hers. Emma could see how it caught the light, bringing out honey brown and red highlights. He smiled when Emma caught his gaze with a polite nod of his head, but he didn’t speak. He was dressed like a tiny little man. Tiny was probably not a good word. He and Emma were about the same size. Still little man — there wasn’t another way Emma could describe him. He was dressed in a green and white plaid short sleeved button up with a matching white bowtie and green bermuda short. And where Henry wore some black Chuck Taylors, Roland’s shoes where clean white Nikes that looked brand new. Just like Henry, his ballcap, a fitted Jets hat, sat on one of his bent knees, and a green hoodie, was folded neatly over the backpack by his feet. 

 

They hadn’t looked at each other yet. However, Emma could see that they both wanted to say something. They were fidgeting with words unspoken so she decided to cut into the pissing contest that Regina had clearly won and asked her own question to the boys.

 

“What happened?”

 

Henry's head popped up and he took her in for the first time since she walked in. After he registered her question, his eyes shot over to Roland, and then he hung his head. She read the shame in his body language. But she also could see that her eldest thought this wasn’t his story to tell.

 

“Roland?” Regina asked, her voice softer this time, warm. “ ¿ Papito, que esto?  ¿ Que pasó?”

 

“Mami. Henry y yo—”

 

Her majesty held up a hand. “Pero en ingles, mi hijo. Por los gringos.”

 

Emma only knew maybe two of those words. But from the way Henry snickered, he understood. And for the first time in a long time, Emma wondered how much she didn’t know about her eldest. When did he pick up Spanish? When did Roland become his best friend? And why were all in the office for a fight these two were involved in?

 

Roland took a breath and let it out before he spoke. “Mom, Henry and I were just at lunch. Minding our own business. And we were talking. I said something to Henry pero en espanol. And in these bobos come out of nowhere and they start chanting, ‘Build that wall.’ Henry told them to back off. But they wouldn’t. They pushed us. We pushed back. Then one of them called me a beaner and wetback. And I hit him. It blew up after that. And I know what you say mom, “Cuando te enojas, ganan.” But I lost it. Henry was just backing me up.”

 

Silence filled the small office. Emma could hear the whirl of the AC, it being uncharacteristically warm during this late September afternoon. She didn’t feel the impact of those words. Not the way some might. Those words didn’t hit her in her soul. It didn’t open scars that history inflicted on a people. All she felt was shame. Because she knew these boys looked like her, looked like her sons. Was this still a thing? Sadly, yes. But Emma had no answers on how to change the status quo. 

 

However, she could see how those words effected Regina. And to her credit, she hid the anger well. But Emma could see it boiling under the surface. Regina fighting against herself to remain calm. Emma couldn’t begin to understand. She just knew anger. She just didn’t experience this — well, ever. She was bisexual and woman. Her queerness was largely invisible though. And the discrimination she experience as a woman, Emma was desensitized to. She couldn’t bring herself to compare her struggles when her privileges outweighed those setbacks. Especially, in this case. 

 

“Mommy, what’s a wetback?”

 

Emma smoothed the hair down and kissed the top of his head. “It’s a hate word. And we don’t use those words.”

 

“Because we not bad people?” Chris asked.

 

“That’s right, buddy,” Emma replied. 

 

“Is in Henwy in twouble?”

 

Emma shook her head. “Not with me. But he might be with the school.”

 

“That’s not wight, mommy.”

 

“I don’t think so either, bud.”

 

She could feel Regina’s eyes on her, watching her exchange with her youngest. She didn’t feel like she was put on the spot. More like she was studying her. Even without Regina in the room, Emma’s feelings would be the same. Henry was doing what she had taught him. You fight for what’s right. And you fight for your friends and family. Full stop. This might have been Roland’s battle, but he was Henry’s best friend, her eldest had to stand by his side. Emma was proud of him. 

 

“Ms. Mills, I assure you—”

 

“You assure me, what?” Regina asked, curtly. “From where I stand, you’ve wasted my time and Ms. Swan’s by calling us down here. Especially, when it is clear these other boys not only started the fight but used deplorable language against my son because of his heritage. Which was not only hateful but factually inaccurate. My son is Puerto Rican. The proposed border wall is for the Mexican border, is it not? So perhaps, you should also speak to these boys’ history teacher as well. If they don’t know that Puerto Rico is a United State Territory and not Mexico that speaks to the caliber of their education, does it not?”

 

She didn’t wait for an answer and stood up with in one fluid move. “We’re done here. Next time I would appreciate that when you call me down here it’ll because my son did something more serious than defend himself against the ignorance of some your other students.” Regina walked toward the door. “Roland, toma tus cosas, y nos vamos.”

 

And then she was out the door with Roland collecting his things, wishing Henry well before he followed after her. 

 

“It was nice meeting you, Ms. Swan,” he said before he left. 

 

“Likewise, Roland,” Emma replied, not bothering to correct him. He was being respectful. She turned around and looked at the Principal. “So, we’re just gonna go too… ” She nodded to her Henry who got packed up and went to the door, holding it open for her as she collected Christopher to go. “Um… You take care.”

 

They left too, Emma smiling at their victory and finally being able to enjoy what had just went on in there. 

 

“Mom…” Henry began when they were walking to the door. 

 

“No need to explain, kid,” Emma cut him off. “You did good. I’m proud of you.”

 

“You are?” Henry asked, disbelief etched on his face. 

 

“Hell yeah, I am,” she told him, with a grin. “Did you get a few good hits in?”

 

He blushed but the bright smile made it clear. And then he affirmed it with words. “Busted one the guy’s noses. He was whining when they brought him to the nurse’s office.”

 

Emma barked with laughter. “That’s my boy. Yes!”

 

“Go, Henwy! Go!” Chris added, pumping his little fist. 

 

“Thanks, mom,” her eldest said. “You too, bud. Thanks. High five?” Chris slapped his hand in Emma’s arms. “Fist bump?” Chris balled up his hand and knocked it lightly against Henry’s. “Wiggly fingers?” Henry held out his hand and he and the little blond boy wiggled their fingers together, saying “Wiggly, wiggly, wiggly.”

 

She put her arm around Henry’s shoulder and kissed his temple. “Ice cream and hot coco? Your aunt Ruby is gonna want to hear about your epic fight.”

 

Henry laughed. “I’m not supposed to get ice cream for fighting at school, Mom.”

 

Emma bounced Christopher on her hip. “More for me and your brother then.”

 

Her eldest held up his hands. “Whoa, I wasn’t saying no. I was just saying.”

 

“Are you implying that I’m not displaying proper parenting skills?” Emma asked, her hand on her chest as if she was offended.

 

Henry just shook his head. “You’re so weird, Mom.”

 

Emma smiled. “Thank you.”

 

Then she saw Henry freeze. The grin he was wear suddenly gone. She followed his gaze to a group of boys at the fence, talking and pointing. He didn’t need to say anything. She knew that there were a few of them that were involved. Especially, since one of them had a bandaged nose. She wanted to go over there and give these boys a stern talking to. Did they really mean what they said? Did they really think that? Did they really want to be those kind of people? But she didn’t want to embarass her eldest. He won that fight. That should be the end of it. No need to draw it out with her involvement. 

 

And then the boy with bandaged nose met her son’s eyes and dragged his finger over his neck. That was the end of it. Emma was going over there.

 

“Mom, don’t,” Henry warned.

 

But Emma wasn’t hearing it. “Get your brother into his car seat, Henry.”

 

He didn’t argue and took Chris and the car keys from her only offering a heavy sigh when she stormed over there.

 

The banged up kid was a short, stocky boy with dark hair, buzzed close to his head. He didn’t make a move to run, even when his other friend scrambled like roaches exposed to the light. 

 

“You can’t touched me,” he told her, quickly. “I’m just a kid.”

 

Emma chuckled. But it wasn’t a happy sound. She lit a cigarette for dramatic effect, radiating a certain I-just-don’t-give-a-fuckness. “That’s right. You’re just a kid. A kid with a mom and a dad, correct?” The boy didn’t offer up an answer. “An adult asked you a question, man. Do you have parents?” The boy nodded. “A mom and a dad?” The boy nodded again. “That’s nice. A kid deserves good parents. But from the way you’re turning out it looks like someone’s not doing such a good job. I’d guess it’s your dad. He’s filling your head with that bullshit, right?” The boy opened his mouth to offer a retort, but Emma didn’t want to hear it. “I don’t give a fuck about your piece of shit dad. What I’m more concerned about is your mom. Spending her time around you two fuckhead must be exhausting. She probably could use a little something good in her life. Normally, I’m not one to break up families but you came after my kid. I went through 37 hours of labor to bring him into the world and I will spend considerably less with your mom making sure she’s so turned off from your dad that she divorces him and picks up and moves you both out to Oregon so she can find a nice lady. So if you don’t take your L and leave my kid along I will fuck your mom. Do we have an understanding?” Emma took a long, slow drag from her cigarette before she stomped it out. “An adult asked you a question.”

 

“Y-y-yes,” the boy stammered out. 

 

“Yes, what?” Emma pressed. 

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Good boy. Now, go learn something.”

 

When the boy ran off, Emma walked back her car feeling like she had made an impact on the boy. But her grin was wiped from her face when she saw Regina and Roland speaking with her son.

 

“Ms. Swan,” Regina greeted with a nod. 

 

“Emma,” she corrected. 

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “So, I see you spoke with one of the boys. Colorful use of language.”

 

Emma shrugged. “I think he got the message.”

 

Regina hummed in agreement. “I suppose. Or he’s scarred for life.”

 

Again Emma shrugged. “Either way.”

 

She could swear that Regina almost smiled but it was gone before Emma could get a read on her. “Henry tells us that you’re going to the diner for ice cream. I was thinking of doing the same for Roland. Would you mind if we join you?”

 

From the way Henry was looking at her, Emma knew what she had to say. “Yeah, of course. We’ll meet you there.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having some trouble writing the next the chapter from Emma's third person POV so I switched it up. The next three chapters will be following Regina's POV. Hopefully, I did my job correctly and you guys enjoy this.
> 
> **Content Warning:** (For the Swen) Robin does make a brief appearance in this chapter. No, OutlawQueen is not currently together. And no, the angst that I plan to stir up between Regina and Emma will not involve him or some past love coming back and wrecking things. Probably. And if that is something I do, it won't be Robbie or Killy doing it.

_El fuego lo derretí._  
_Hoy las pesadillas no duermen._  
_Porque piensan en mí._  
_Hoy puedo ver lo que el otro no vio,  
_ _Y los pongo a rezar aunque no crean en dios._

_Hoy las lagrimas lloran antes de morir,_  
_Y a los libros de historia los pongo a escribir._  
_Que le tiemblen las piernas al planeta tierra.  
_ _Hoy yo vine a ganar, y estoy hecho de guerra._

The car stereo was playing, quietly in the background. Most would be surprised by Regina's choice of soundtrack for this ride. But she had been a fan of Hip Hop since she first heard No Sleep Till Brooklyn by the Beastie Boys. She grew up in one of the hotbeds of Rap Music. And some of the greatest Hip Hop artist had called her borough home. She still had an old worn mixtape that she made when she was ten somewhere among her keepsakes. Her parents had disapproved and still there's a disconnect with her mother and Regina's musical tastes. But her father had come around eventually.

From there as she matured, so did her tastes. She was still a fan the genre. And there were still songs (no matter how problematic) she had to listen to because they filled her with a sense of nostalgia. But for the most part she liked an artist with a message. It wasn't genre specific either. Regina required substance, heart. She wanted the music she listened to to make her feel something.

Hence her choice in music for this ride.

Regina had no idea why she agreed to meet with Emma, other than morbid curiosity. She told herself it was just to find out more about the mother of her son's best friend. She liked to keep herself informed when it came to Roland's life. And if Henry was a part of that, then she needed to know about the boy's mother. It only seemed logical.

Still, there was something about Emma that got under her skin — well, perhaps that was too strong of a phrase. But there was something to Emma. Something Regina couldn't quite put her finger on. And that bothered her. Regina prided herself on being able to read to people. And she couldn't get a clear read on Emma. She seemed to be a living, breathing contradiction. She certainly looked too young to have a 15 year-old. And the tattoos were off putting — to an extent. A part of her was intrigued by them. Given her line of work, Regina was no stranger to people adorned in body art, but there's still a part of her that believed outside of the arts, and entertainment fields, visible ink spoke to someone that didn't play by society's rules. And perhaps, that's what fascinated her about Emma Swan, as well.

"So…" she began as they drove down Main Street. "Ms. Swan… Emma…"

Roland studied her for a moment, his eyes conveying a certain level of weariness. "What about her?"

"She's Henry's mother," Regina replied as if that meant something; to her it did. "And yet I know nothing about her. ¿No pensaste que eso era importante?"

Her son gave a lazy shrug. "No, not really."

How could he think something like this wasn't important? Roland hadn't spent time at Emma's house that Regina was aware of, but her existence wasn't an insignificant detail either. And this was partially on her, because it hadn't occurred to Regina to ask. Still, she raised her son better than this. She knew it wasn't easy for him. Storybrooke was a small town. And although his grandmother was from here originally, Roland stood out. Unlike Regina, he couldn't pass. It had to be difficult. Which was why Henry was a godsend. He was a boy Roland's age that her son could bond with. They were both the new kids. Both outsiders in their own way. But her lack of information on Emma bothered her. And she couldn't let that go.

"She's a mechanic, I think," Roland said. "She works for Nick and Ava's dad."

"You've never met her?" Regina asked. "You've never been to their house?"

"No. Henry doesn't really talk about his family," Roland explained. "No pensé en preguntar."

"Is Emma married?" she continued to fish for answers.

Roland shrugged. "I don't think so. Henry's dad died when he was little. And I don't think Chris' dad is around either."

"Chris?"

"Christopher. Henry's little brother."

That explained the age gap between Emma's two sons. Regina didn't want to assume anything but her first thought was of a young mother, newly widowed who tried to raise a child on her own. She must have met her second son's father some time later. Though, she wondered why he wasn't in the picture anymore. And it wasn't something she could ask over ice cream, either. However, if Roland and Henry were to continue their friendship, then Regina would like to know. And she promised herself she'd find out.

"Mami?"

She caught Roland's frown as she pulled into the parking lot the diner. "Yes, papito?"

"Don't interrogate her," he urged, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts were leading her.

Regina arched an eyebrow. She wanted to deny that it wasn't something she did. But she knew it was a lie. She had interrogated Henry when they first met. It would stand to reason she'd do the same with Emma. Though, Regina thought she would have been subtle about it. But her son's request had her doubting her approach. Though, it didn't give her pause to divate from her original plan.

"Fine, I'll refrain." Regina would have said more, but as she continued her cell phone rang. And with one look at the Caller ID, she knew this wasn't going to be a simple phone call.

Robin,

That's all it said but those five letters was enough to suck the air out of the car.

"Roland, go inside," she told her son. "I'll meet you inside when I'm finished here."

He frowned again as he regarded her. "It's Dad, isn't it? You only get that look when my dad calls."

Regina didn't engage, she had learned early on that was just a trap. She wasn't going to fall for it this time. "Roland, I'll meet you inside."

He huffed and got out of her car, slamming the door on his way out. She turned down the stereo as she watched him stomp toward the diner before she accepted the call, with a thumb swipe to the right.

"Robin."

"Regina, our son is suspended for fighting and you didn't think to call me?"

So this was how they were going to start things off? No pleasantries. No easing into it. Just straight down to business.

Regina took a deep breath before she spoke. "I have handled everything. I was going to call you this evening to inform you about what happened at school today."

Regina heard his labored sigh. "He's my son. I have a right to know."

"I agree," she replied, tersely. "And as I told you, I was going to call you tonight."

"You should have called me when it happened," was his stern reply.

"¿Es que no podemos hablar de esto como adultos?" Regina let out an exasperated sigh of her own. "Robin, for once can we have a conversation without arguing?"

There was a good second or two of silence before she heard his voice again, softer this time but no less annoyed. "Regina, I just don't like being left out of the loop."

"I understand," she told him. "Should something like this happen again, I'll call you. But I still don't see how that would help."

"Contrary to what you may think, Regina," he began. "It often takes more than one person to raise a child."

"Boys told Roland to back to his country and then they chanted 'Build the Wall' around him until he lost his temper and fought back," Regina explained, matter of factly because she didn't appreciate his tone.

"Christ," Robin swore.

"Exactly, so what advice could you give him? This wasn't some schoolyard fight, Robin," she explained.

"It doesn't matter what the fight was about, Regina," he reasoned. "I still had a right to know."

"And as I told you, I was going to call you later." Before he said any more, she continued with, "Robin, I have to go. I have another call. I'll speak with you tonight."

"Just have Roland call me."

"Fine."

He sighed again. "Regina, how did we get here?"

Her lips pressed in a tight line and she took a moment before she spoke again. "Because I made an forgivable mistake."

Regina hung up without saying goodbye but didn't make a move to leave her vehicle. She scrolled through her contacts, found the one she needed, and made the call. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Regina?"

"Papi." Despite the term of endearment, Regina's tone was cool. "Would you care to explain why my mother called Robin? Or should I just talk to her directly about it?"

She heard a labored sigh. "She called him because he's Roland's father. He should know about these things."

"Don't you think that it wasn't her place to tell him?" Regina asked. "Roland is my son, too. And I was going to call Robin when I was ready."

"Regina, mi hijita, you have to figure out how to coexist with your ex-husband," her father told her. "The marriage ended. Most do. But you share a son. And you have to figure out how to raise Roland together."

"Just like my mother did with Zelena's father?"

"Don't you talk about your mother that way," her father warned. But the firm tone was dropped almost immediately in favor of a softer one. "And you know very well that he was a terrible man. When she left him, your mother had her reasons. Just like Robin had his. But you are nothing like they were when your mother had Zelena. And Robin is a good man. So you can make this work, Regina. Don't create a barrier between you two. Because the only person who will get hurt is Papito."

It was sound advice. Her father was good for that. But Regina wasn't in the right headspace to hear it.

"I have to go."

"Ok. And diner at your place Sunday night?"

"Yes," she replied. "Roland will be with me. Robin's going to take him next weekend. Instead of this weekend."

"Perfecto. Tell Papito that his 'eulo is proud of him for sticking up for himself."

"And?"

"I'm not going to tell you that your mother won't call Robin again. We'll do anything for you and our grandson. Even if it makes you both a little mad. We're your family, it's what we do."

Regina smiled. She couldn't stay upset with him for very long. That was just the kind of man he was. It frustrated her mother, her sister, and herself at times but it suited him.

"Alright. I'll forgive you both. Tell mother hello for me. And I'll see you Sunday."

"Goodbye, babygirl. Te amo."

"Te amo, papi. Adios."


	5. Chapter 4

Regina walked into the diner and scanned the inside looking for her son. She didn't see him at first. No, what caught her attention was the long, slender fingers of one Emma Swan waving at her. She had to admit at least to herself that she had judged Emma harshly at first. But now she was trying to see her in a different light. A person who could raise a boy like Henry couldn't be the mess of a person Regina thought when they first met. Though she still had her doubts.

Her lips quirked in a small smile and she joined Roland, Emma, and her two boys, taking the seat next to her son and opposite of Emma.

The other woman glanced at Regina and grinned. "Thanks for joining us."

Regina's smile brightened slightly at Emma's welcoming tone, though she caught the faint smell of marijuana and expensive (that was surprising) body spray. "Thank you for having us."

"Mami," Roland cut in. "We ordered the ice cream and hot coco.

"Chris wanted whipped cream and cinnamon," Henry added.

"'Cause I like it like that," Christopher affirmed.

"That's because it's awesome and the only way to drink it, buddy," Emma agreed, nuzzling him until he giggled. Then she nodded toward Roland and Henry. "So which classes do you two share?"

Roland looked at Henry before he answered. "Um… We have the same schedule."

"Yeah," Emma's eldest agrees. "Everything except fourth period. I'm in band. Roland's in student government."

"I'm treasurer," Roland explains.

Emma nodded. "Mrs. Blue still teaching English?"

The boys laughed and Henry spoke. "Yeah. She still talks about you and Aunt Ruby and that whole thing during your Freshman year."

Emma cringed and Regina knew there was a story behind this that she was itching to hear. "Sorry, kiddo. In my defense, all your Aunt Ruby's fault."

"What's all my fault?" a waitress asked, carrying over a large tray off bowls and mugs. She was a tall, slender woman. Pale skin which made both her dark hair and light eyes stand out. She was wearing jeans and button up shirt she had tied the bottom of, with a name tag that said Ruby on it. She set the tray down and started placing things in front of people, giving Chris his ice cream and coco first, which pulled his focus. He didn't move, just settled in Emma's lap with a spoon in my hand.

"Mrs. Blue, English class, Freshman year," Emma replied as she helped her youngest with small bowl of vanilla with sprinkles.

"Oh, yeah... " Ruby's face flushed. "That was all your mom."

"What happened?" Regina inquired, only asking for a cup of coffee from Ruby.

Emma chuckled. "A story for another time. When my children aren't around to hear it."

"Ah. I understand." But she made a note to ask should they ever find some time alone together away from their children.

"Speaking of wild and crazy things," Ruby cut in, as she gave Henry and Roland their bowls of ice cream. "Hen, my wonderfully adorkable nephew, what are you getting into tonight?"

Henry cocked an eyebrow at the question the obvious distrust etched all over his face but answered anyway. "Nothing. I was going to play Battlefield with Roland online after we got our homework done."

"Perf'," Ruby said. "Then you can totally keep an eye on your little brother while your mom helps me out with something down at the Rabbit Hole?"

"What's the something?" Henry asked.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "I need a girls' night, kiddo. Your mom said she'd go with me if you agreed to babysit. I'd pay you. And you'd be doing me a favor so…"

"40 bucks for the whole night and pizza," was Henry's offer.

"40 dollars? That's highway robbery," Ruby exclaimed.

Henry just shrugged. "That's the nature of the Free Market. Supply and demand. I demand 40 buck and pizza and you'll supply it, Aunt Ruby."

Ruby shook her head. "You diabolical genius. Well played."

"Great," Ruby said. "So, we'll go at like 10. So come to my house at nine. We'll pregame — I'll pregame, and then we'll go out."

And then she was gone, returning briefly with a coffee for Regina before she left again. A girls' night. That sounded interesting. A chance to see Henry's mother's in her natural state; Emma around her friends could give her some insight. Although, she promised Roland she wouldn't interrogate Henry's mother, she never agreed to a discussing her background over drinks.

As plans went, it was genius.

"Ms. Swan," Regina began. "I know you've made plans but perhaps Roland could stay the night tonight? Help out Henry with Christopher while you're out. Then perhaps, we could have Henry over the following night."

"Chris isn't a handful. He'll sleep through the night," Emma told her

Regina nodded. "I understand. Perhaps another time."

"Mom," Henry pleaded. "Please. I never have people over."

"Please, Ms. Swan?" Roland added. "We won't get into trouble."

As soon as the defeated sigh left her, Regina knew she had won. Roland would stay the night tonight. Regina would have Henry over on Saturday. And

"Fine. But no staying up until dawn playing Call of Battle." Emma relented.

Henry groaned. "Mom, it's Call of  _Duty_  and Battle _field_."

Emma smirked. "I know. I just think it's funny when you get annoyed. A little vein in your forehead pops out. Really adorable."

"Mommy, I wanna go, too," Chris whined.

"When you're older, bud," Emma assured him.

"But I'm older," he said. "I'm a minute older."

"You gotta be older than that."

"How many minutes?"

"A lot more."

"A hundred?"

"More."

The little boy gasped. "A million?"

Emma chuckled. "More like a few million. Then, you'll be old enough."

The tiny boy didn't like that answer and pouted until Emma made like she was going to eat his ice cream too. Then he let out what could only be described as a growl and when back to his bowl. It was a cute little exchanged and even had Regina smiling. Once it seemed that he was satisfied or at least distracted, she asked, "So, I'll drop Roland off around seven?"

Emma nodded. "Sounds good."

They finished up their ice cream and coco over polite conversation. The older boys talked about school, their voices dropping ever so often, as they tried to speak in code. It didn't work. But they got points for the attempt. The adults took the time to get to know each other Regina's questions were focused on Christopher which led to some funny back and forth between the two.

"Ms. Wa-... Wa-Gee… 'Gina?"

"Yes, little one?"

"Um… I… um… you're really pretty."

She grinned. "Thank you, Christopher."

But then he stressed, he tone serious, "Like really… really… really pretty."

Emma put her hand over his mouth. "Yeah, I think she gets the picture, buddy. Might wanna dial it down some."

Once they were done, everyone got up. Emma went to pay the bill but Regina insisted she cover it.

"As a thank you," she explained. "I don't condone what the boys did, but I'm glad that my son has a friend like Henry."

Emma obviously didn't know what to say at first. "Um, yeah. Of course. Thank you. For the ice cream." She chuckled awkwardly. "Well, I guess we'll be seeing more of each other."

"Speaking of which," Regina began as she placed a few bills on the table. "If you and the boys are free, perhaps you can come over for dinner on Sunday."

Regina caught son's expression. He was up for it. But weary. She knew why. He was aware that while she may have promised not to pester Emma for information, but her parents were not about to make any such concession.

"Yeah," Emma said, lifting her youngest into her arms. "If you don't mind hosting me and my brood."

Regina smiled and pinched Christopher's cheek lightly. He smiled at her, burying his face into Emma's chest. "I think I'll be able to manage." She looked up meeting Emma's eyes. Regina hadn't notice it before; her eyes were the color of the ocean on a clear, sunny day. "So, Sunday at 6?"

Emma nodded. "Yes. We'll be there, I'll see you then."

"If we don't run into each other before than," Regina commented, and then glanced at Roland. "Vamos, papito. Your 'eulo is going to want to hear all about this fight."

"Bye Henry," Roland turned to Emma. "It was nice meeting you Ms. Swan."

"Just Emma. Or Henry's mom."

Roland smiled and nodded. "Bye Emma."

"See ya, Roland."

The drive to their home on Mifflin Street was uneventful. Roland stared through the passenger side window and hadn't spoken to her since they got into the car. His ability to compartmentalize was something he certainly didn't get from his father. He kept it civil with Emma, Henry, and Christopher. But in the car, he was a bundle of teenaged broodiness and angst. And to drive this point home, when they pulled into the garage Roland jumped out of the car without a word.

"Call your father," Regina called after him. He grunted his acknowledgement and she sighed in response. She delivered the message. If he didn't call Robin, she'd recieve a call later most likely.

She hoped Roland would make the call.

Moving through the house, Regina made a mental note of what she needed to do. Dinner was off the table for tonight. So that just left giving the house a good once over before she drove Roland to Emma's. But that could wait. What she needed right now was a break. At least for a moment. She lingered for a second at the foot of the stairs and when she heard the tell-tale slam of Roland's bedroom door, Regina knew she'd have a good 30 or so minutes before he came back down. So if she slipped into her study, got the pack of emergency cigarettes she kept in her top desk drawer, and popped outside for a quick smoke, he'd be none the wiser.

And she did just that. Regina sat on her back patio, studying the reason she had bought the house in the first place; an old apple tree, and made another mental note to collect the ripe apples before they fell to the ground and rotted.

She lit her cigarette and sighed once more, rubbing her right temple in small circles. The meeting at the high school, her phone calls with Robin and her father, and now Roland's mood had Regina wound tightly. Maybe she'd take a page out of Emma's book and go out for the night too.

As she thought about it it wasn't a bad plan. Regina could certainly use it and if she ran into Emma (which she would), well she could still find out more about her. So with the decision made she took out her cell phone and dialed. It rang twice before someone answered.

"Hello, Tiana," she greeted. "I was wondering if you'd like to take a break tonight, go out, and grab a drink. The Rabbit Hole perhaps? It's only a few minutes from your hotel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was the next few chapters. Let's discuss the story. What do you guys think should happen? I usually write a chapter or two ahead. But if you guys have ideas lemme know. This is the first fict that I don't have an outline of in my head. Mostly because slowburns are really hard for me to write. So please, my fellow lovers of slowburns: HELP! How do you slow burn?


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina drops off Roland at Emma's house and gets a little more of a glimpse into this woman's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So slow burns are hard. I don't even what I'm doing half of the time. This is still a lot of set up. But I promise it's leading up to something. I don't know what yet, but I'm glad y'all here for this experiment in me writing slow burn. Cheers.

7:05 P.M.

Regina would have been at Emma's precisely at seven but she suspected that Roland purposely left his toothbrush behind so they'd arrive fashionably late. She didn't like it but as this was just a tentative meeting time. So she wasn't late. However, it was something that got under her skin. To her, around seven meant 6:55.

"What did you and your father talk about?" she asked as they drove.

Roland shrugged. "Nothing, really."

"Papito, I'm only asking a question," she assured him.

But her son wasn't buying it. "You were fishing. It's private, Mom. I don't want to talk about it."

"Roland…"

"Mami, ya!" he groaned. "Enough."

The divorce was a sore subject all around. Roland blamed her. Robin blamed her. Regina blamed herself. Only her parents had been understanding. But even she couldn't bring herself to believe them. Some things were just unforgivable.

"Eres terco como tu padre," she muttered instead of asking anything more.

Roland smiled. "At least I come by it honestly."

She almost laughed. "I suppose." Regina paused. "I'm sorry that I asked about your father. I should have respected your boundaries when it comes to him. But that doesn't mean you can keep things like what happened today a secret from me."

He nodded. "I know. Lo siento. It won't happen again."

"Ok, good. Because if it does I will rain fire and brimstone down upon anyone that treats you that way," she vowed.

Roland's brow furrowed at her words. "Mom, you can't save me from this. And it's not something you can prepare me for either. You don't know what this is like. When they look at you, they don't automatically see a latina. It's not like that for me." He added, quickly, "I'm not saying it as a bad thing. It's just a reality."

"I wish there was a way I could keep you from this."

"I know. Dad does too. But you can't. You can't explain why people are going to hate me just because of how I look. And that's ok, Mom. I can handle this. I can handle a few tontos."

Regina didn't want to see the maturity in her son's response. He was growing up. Too fast for her liking. But it wasn't as if she could freeze time and keep him 15 forever. Time went on. And she and her son aged with it.

"How did you get to be so smart?" she asked as they pulled in front of Emma's home.

Roland chuckled. "I may be stubborn like my dad. But I'm told that I get my intelligence from my mom."

Regina smiled at that. "Who told you that?"

"Grandma. But she also said that you got that from her."

"That sounds more like your grandmother," Regina said as she pulled the car over to the side front of what she assumed was Emma's house. The address was correct. So it was a fair assumption.

The cottage was quaint. Small. Perhaps too small to raise two boys in. But there was a certain homey feel to it. The lawn wasn't well manicured but the grass appeared as if it was cut frequently enough that a four-year-old could play without getting lost in the weeds. And the yellow paint seemed new. As if someone had taken the time to see that this house was well taken care of.

When Roland got out, so did she, walking up the wooden steps to the front down on the covered porch.

Her son knocked and Henry answered the door.

"Hey, man," Henry greeted Roland before turning toward Regina. "Good evening Ms. Mills." The boys embraced and Henry invited them in. "My mom will be out here but she's dealing a —"

Just then a tiny pale, blonde streak barrelled into the living room and ran past them without an article of clothing. Roland chuckled. And Regina even had to hide a smile when Emma came out after him looking flustered.

"Chris, you gotta put on some—" Emma stopped when she realized they had guests. "Um— uh — hey. Bedtime is a — uh — um — it's a process."

This time Regina did laugh. "I remember that stage very well."

"Mom," Roland warned.

"Tranquilo, Papito, I'm not going to pull out the photo albums," she assured him. But with a wink thrown to Emma, she added. "I'll save that for tomorrow."

"Mom!" It was so easy to rile up a teenager.

Emma chuckled. "Well, I should probably take care of my naked kid."

"Take your time."

It took some convincing but Emma finally got Christopher into his pajamas and settled on the couch. But only if he could have his blanket which Henry got for him. It was a small square, worn and with a slight gray tinge to it like Chris had literally dragged the thing behind him wherever he went. Probably four — more like three years of doing that from the look of it. Once he had the blanket firmly in his grasp, Emma's youngest sat on the couch and acknowledged Regina and Roland.

"Hi 'Wowen,' he greeted with a wave. "Hi, Miss Wa— Hi Miss 'Gina."

"Hey dude," Roland replied with a nod. "Are you excited that you're gonna hang out with me and your big bro tonight?"

Chris nodded, yawning. "Yeah. I never ever can to do that."

Regina cast a quizzically glance toward Emma who smiled and as if she read her mind explained in one word, "Melatonin."

She smiled and again understood that phase all too well. Christopher fought sleep like any toddler his age. Roland was the same way. Regina had had help. But it was hard dealing with a child that just would not sleep. You do what you can. For the sake of your sanity and theirs. Regina couldn't imagine doing this alone. However, if the calm dispositions of Emma's sons were any indication, she wasn't an awful parent.

"Well, I should probably leave," Regina said. "I'm sure Roland doesn't need me hanging around him. You have a lovely home, Emma. And boys be good. Don't stay up too late."

"I'll walk you out," Emma offered.

"Thank you."

The adults stepped outside and as soon as Emma was out of the door she lit up a cigarette. She walked Regina to her car. An awkward silence had befallen them. It made the other woman twitchy and it made Regina tense her shoulders until she took a cleansing breath and let it out slowly.

"Ms. Swan — Emma," she began. "Roland is the most precious thing in my life. I'm trusting you with him."

"I completely understand that," Emma replied, without getting defensive. "Roland will be safe in my home. Henry is a good kid. So is Roland. I think it's okay to trust them to be by themselves for a few hours."

"And when do you plan on coming back?"

Emma grinned. "I'm not trying to close down the bar, Regina if that's what you're asking. I'm 33, so burning the midnight oil 'til the wee hours of the morning is not something I can do anymore."

Regina did the math easily. Emma had had Henry when she was only 18. She thought 23 had been young when she had Roland. She couldn't imagine becoming a mother fresh out of high school.

"That's good to hear," Regina said, instead of commenting on her age. "You can bring Roland by in the morning."

"Are you sure?" Emma asked. "I was thinking of bringing him back just after lunch. If that's ok."

Regina blinked her surprised. "Yes, of course. I thought…"

Emma waved her statement away. "Dealing with two teenagers isn't all too different than dealing with one. I think I'll survive a few hours. But if it'll make you feel better…"

"No. No. It's fine," Regina assured her, opening her car door. "Just have Roland call me in the morning."

"Will do, Regina," Emma told her. "Have a good night."

Regina slid into the driver seat and nodded. "You do the same, Emma. Just not too much." The other woman laughed and it was a so light and carefree that Regina smiled. "Good night, Emma."

Stepping away, Emma continued to smoke her cigarette as Regina started her car and waved as Regina drove off. She still didn't know what to make of Emma. But her investigation had just begun. She used the Bluetooth in her car to make a phone call.

"Tiana, good evening," she greeted when someone picked up. "I am heading back to my house now. I only have to change and then I'll call you again when I'm on my way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter. As always, I'm murderouslyadorkable on Tumblr. And any and all feedback is welcomed. Seriously, how am I doing with this slow burn stuff?


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and company are the bar, catching up. Her friends engage in their favorite pastime: making fun of Emma and of course, she's not happy about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a less than woke exchange between Ruby and August about Regina. It's supposed to be that way. I am very aware of what it sounds like. So if you're going to review about how disgusting that is... I know. It's supposed to be. I did that intentionally. I do not condone this. It's like there are people that think that what I write is something I sign off on as cool. And... no. Some people say asshole things. I'm just trying to flesh out these guys for my story.

"So you're having dinner with her on Sunday?" Ruby asked as she and Emma walked into the Rabbit Hole, a little dive bar right off of Main St. It had all of the key characteristics of any good dive bar. Low lighting, a dark color scheme, and cheap booze. It was hazy like people had been smoking inside but Emma knew that wasn't the case. It was illegal to smoke in a bar. Much to her disappointment.

She shrugged at Ruby's question. "I don't see what the big deal is. Our sons are best friends. We're getting to know each other."

"Yeah, sure. Ok. That's also a possibility," Ruby replies as they move toward the bar.

"What's the other possibility?" Emma asked, flagging down the bartender.

"That she likes you," Ruby told her matter of factly.

Emma's face reddened as if she had one too many beers and she hadn't even had a drop of alcohol yet. She couldn't comment further because the bartender came over and took their drink orders. Emma ordered a whiskey with a beer chaser. And Ruby ordered something fruity but way more alcoholic than Emma liked. But it wasn't like her best friend was driving. She was free to get three sheets to the wind if she wanted to.

They paid the bartender, Emma giving him her credit card to keep a tab open. Now they were free to continue their conversation.

"What do you mean she likes me?" Emma questioned as they moved toward a booth.

Emma slid in first and Ruby sat opposite of her. "Well," she began. "When one mommy thinks another mommy is hot in an adorably trainwrecky sort of way…"

"Cute."

Ruby grinned. "Thank you. But you've got to admit, she's wicked fucking hot, Emma. And you could use an orgasm friend."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Emma asked, slightly offended.

"It means that your lady parts haven't been pleased by anything that hasn't run on batteries in so long that you're starting to grow cobwebs down there," Ruby explained. "The last time was Lily, right? That was like 5 fucking years ago. As I said before you need an orgasm friend, stat."

"Is that Dr. Ruby's orders?"

"An orgasm a day keeps the bitch at bay." Ruby shrugged. "Just saying."

Emma's expression was one of neutral disdain. "Yeah, I'm sure, you're just saying."

"Hey, don't kill the messenger, Em'," Ruby replied. "I just don't want you to forget about yourself while you're raising your two rugrats."

"I'm not," Emma said, taking her shot and washing it down with a sip of her beer. "It's just I haven't exactly made the best decision in that department — you know, pick a time. Neal. Elsa. Neal, again. Killian. Lily. I don't do love well. I'll stick with what I know; being a decent mom that doesn't fuck up her sons too much."

Ruby lifted up her glass. "To being better than our parents."

Emma joined her in Ruby's toast. "A-fucking-men."

"You better hurry up and finish that beer, Swan," a familiar voice sounded. "Because I got a pitcher and I can't drink it by myself."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you'll try your best, Auggie."

Emma turned her head to find two men making their way toward their booth. The one holding a pitcher of beer and a full glass of the same liquid was dressed in boots, faded jeans to match his faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and a black leather riding jacket to complete the outfit. The other was holding a small Tumblr of amber liquor, dressed like a backup band member of Panic at the Disco (their early years) or 30 Second to Mars. He was dressed in all black save for his long colorful coat, soft scarves that he wrapped around his neck, and a top hat that he had cocked to the side.

"Watch it, Rubes," the man holding the pitcher said. "I haven't been Auggie since the sixth grade."

"Yes, he's August now," the man in the top hat said, taking a sip of his drink. "Very grown up."

"Fuck you, Jefferson," August scoffed, putting the pitcher on the table. "Well, Emma hurry the hell up. The night is young and we are not. So drink and be merry."

"Yeah, Em'," Jeff agreed, pulling out a joint. "Then we can smoke this."

Ruby smiled. "What's stopping us from doing that right now?"

"She's got a point, man," August argued.

Jefferson shrugged. "Fine. Let's step outside."

The foursome stepped out and around the building to a part of the parking lot that wasn't particularly well lit. It might be legal in Maine but smoking outside was still a ticketable offense. However so was drinking outside which they were also doing. To say they weren't worried about breaking certain laws would be an understatement. They had grown up here. The sheriff went to high school with them. They'd get a warning at worst.

"So now that Emma's settled in, are were going to put the band back together?" August asked as Jefferson sparked up the joint.

"Yeah," Jefferson agreed. "Even if it's just for shits and giggles. It's just been the three of us for the last 15 years. We need a drummer, Em'."

Ruby nudged Emma playfully. "What about it, Emma? You up for something like that?"

"I have a four-year-old, guys," Emma reasoned. "I can't go climb into a ratty old van and go touring."

"Who said anything about touring?" August asked taking the joint from Jefferson as he was standing to his left. "I just meant getting together every Sunday afternoon and raging for a few hours. To let off some steam."

Emma shot him a quizzical look. "You have a weird sense of stress release."

"Don't mind her, Auggie," Ruby said. "Emma is a little tightly wound."

"For the last time, Rubes, I don't need a fucking orgasm friend," Emma shot back.

August chuckled taking a hit before he passed it to Ruby. "There seems to be a story behind this that I want to hear all about."

"It's not a big deal," Emma explained.

But Ruby rolled over her, speaking despite her lungs full of smoke. "Henry's best friend's mom is super hot and invited Emma to dinner Sunday night."

"Because our sons are friends," Emma stressed, taking the joint from Ruby and taking a drag herself. "Ruby's reading too much into it."

There was a moment of silence and then August asked, "How hot is she?"

Emma rolled her eyes. But Ruby answered. "Dude, wicked hot. Like if she didn't want Emma's lady parts I'd be thinking about jumping on that like a grenade. She's like 5'4" — 5'5". Curvy. Fierce dresser. And the cherry on top of this sex cake: she's latina."

August grinned. "Really?"

A slight annoyance turned into downright frustration. "Will you both just stop? She's not a sex toy. Yes, she's beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that. But she's smart. She's got a fire within her. And she doesn't take anyone's shit. It's impressive. I had to just shut up and watch go today." She stopped in the middle of bringing the joint to her lips as she noticed the other three exchanging knowing looks. "What?"

Ruby's expression was the kind a person gets when they look at a cute baby or a puppy. All big eyes and a small smirk, like they are the most adorable thing on the planet. And when she spoke her tone was saccharine, so sweet it made Emma's teeth ache. "Aw, Em'. You like her. I was just being an asshole —"

"Understatement of the century," Emma muttered.

"— But you like her, like her," her best friend continued.

Emma's face turned red and shiny at those words. "I don't. Really. I just admire her."

"Is admire lesbian for a desire to bone?" August asked. "I always forget."

Emma punched him in his arm. "I'm going to thoroughly kick every inch of your ass if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Sounds kinky. Do I get a safe word?" he quipped and when she reached back to hit him again he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay. Okay. I tap out. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Ruby said quickly. "I think it's fantastic. You need to get all of that badness out of your system. Neal. Elsa. Killian. Lily. Emma, you deserve some good in your life. That's all I'm saying."

Jefferson took the joint from Emma, pulling a drag from it. "And I haven't said anything."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "And Jeff always coming in clutch."

He shrugged. "I personally think we should stay out of Emma's business. Because remember what happened last time?"

"Hey, if we hadn't pushed Neal and Emma together there would be no Henry," Ruby reasoned. "And future supervillainy aside, he's a good kid."

"True. Not as amazing as my girls, but…"

Emma scoffed at Jefferson's notion. "Excuse me. My son is awesome. Because I'm awesome and I make awesome babies."

"Who are ridiculously adorable," Ruby added.

"That too," Emma agreed. "And Grace and little Alice, while great, clearly didn't get any of that greatness from you."

Jefferson smiled. "No, they got that from their mother."

"How is Allison anyway?" Emma asked.

The light atmosphere got heavy with a shift to a more serious topic. And Jefferson's expression dimmed. "She's still — you know, where she is. But we see her once a week. And she's doing better. They're still trying to figure out her meds. But her episodes haven't been nearly as bad in years. Not since Alice was little."

"That's good," Emma told him with a reassuring pat. "That's really good to hear. I'm glad."

"Me too," he agreed, taking a hit of the joint before flicking the burning embers at the tip away and stomping it out. "Shall we? I believe August has a pitcher he needs help finishing."

August frowned. "Who said I was going to give you any?"

Ruby shook her head as she began to follow the boys. "Children, I'll separate you if you don't learn to play nice." She looked over her shoulder and noticed Emma still standing there. "You coming with, Em'?"

She shook her head. "In a second. I'm gonna have a cigarette."

"Ok. I'll see you inside."

Then Ruby was gone and Emma was alone. She wondered briefly if Ruby had been onto something. Did she have a modicum of the warm and fuzzies for Regina? She didn't have long to contemplate that thought as she smoked, because as she brought the cigarette to her lips for only the second or third time a black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. And emerging from the familiar vehicle was none other than one Regina Mills.

"Regina?" Emma asked, completely shocked to find her here of all places.

"Yes, Emma?" Regina replied, walking toward her in a little black sheath dress. Very classy. Too classy for someplace like the Rabbit Hole.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came here to meet a friend for drinks. She should be here any minute."

"Oh…"

"Something the matter, dear?"

She called her dear. Why did that make Emma's heart beat just a little faster? "Um. No. Nothing."

Regina smiled. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink while I wait for my friend?"

Emma held up her glass. "I sorta already have one."

"Then why don't you buy me a drink while I wait for my friend?"

Her mouth dried and she bought some time taking a swig of her beer. "Um, yeah. Sure. I can do that."

The other woman shook her head. "Your son must get all of his charm from his father."

That eased a bit of the tension. "Neal's idea of charm was a horror movie and six-pack of beer. I mean, I'm not saying it didn't work. I'm just saying it was far from charming."

"So you're telling me there's a charming side to you, Ms. Swan?"

"I do alright."

Regina's lips quirked in a grin. "That remains to be seen. But why don't we start with a drink, hm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, snap. They're gonna grab a drink. Emma has a crush. Now if Regina could just admit that she's not doing this because for the sake of her son... I say that like I'm not writing the damn thing. Lol. Also, seriously, how is this slow burn thing going? Am I even doing this right? I'm usually not a slow burn person. So... yeah... As always any and all feedback is welcomed. Unless it's non-constructive shade. Anyway, I hope you're liking this. I'll be posting Chapter Seven as soon as I'm done drafting Eight. So yeah.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina sit down for a drink and learn a bit about each other.

"You grew up here?" Regina asked stirring her martini with a toothpick that had three olives on it. She sat on the bar stool, leg crossed at the knees as Emma tried desperately not to look at the patch of upper thigh it revealed.

They kept the conversation light. But when the conversation shifted to Emma and her background she tensed. And as it went on she didn't reach for her beer as much. She needed a clear head. They had known each other for a day, Emma wasn't about to open her closest bare all the skeletons she had piled inside of it.

"Yeah. Born and raised."

"My mother grew up here as well," Regina confessed. "My parents are living in her family's home near Turner Lane."

Emma smiled, relaxing just a little bit. She had to remember that people weren't as guarded as she was. "Oh, the Aventine Hill of Storybrooke." Regina's eyebrow arched at her words and so she added, "I'm smarter than I look. But that is where the rich people live. Well, rich by Storybrooke standards."

Regina chuckled as she took a sip from her glass. "Oh, no. Rich by anyone's standards."

"You're not going to tell me that you're some oil baroness, are you?" Emma jested.

"If I say yes, would you look at me differently?"

She thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. "I'd have some questions."

Regina's eyebrow arched, quizzically. "Such as?"

"Well, chiefly, what the hell are you doing in Storybrooke?" It was a fair question. This town was small and there wasn't too much to it. It was like any small town in the North Country. Weirdly conservative. Mostly white and straight. And boring as fuck. But it wasn't a hideaway for the rich, famous, and fabulous. That was for certain.

"As I said, my mother grew up here," Regina spoke as if that explained everything. It didn't it. But Emma didn't push.

"Mine too," Emma told the other woman. "Whole family dating back — who knows anymore."

"You don't seem happy about that," Regina commented.

Truth be told, Emma wasn't. Storybrooke was the last fucking place she wanted to be. That's why she got the hell out as soon as she could. She had tried with Neal at first to get out and stay gone. And when he died she latched on Killian and didn't let go. To her at the time it was the only way she could escape the fate of ending up like her mother.

"No, Storybrooke is a good place," Emma lied, taking a sip of her beer to cover up any tells she might have. "I have a lot of good memories here."

But also a lot of bad ones. Storybrooke was bittersweet for her. On the one hand, this was her home. It would always be. She wasn't lying; there were good moments. But it didn't wash away the profoundly bad ones. Her relationship with her hometown was as complicated as her relationship with her family. Emma didn't expect someone like Regina to understand. She probably had wonderful parents and the perfect childhood. Emma didn't want to open up that can of worms and see pity in Regina's eyes.

"And now your sons will too."

Emma smiled. That was the silver lining. Her boys wouldn't grow up as she had. Emma Swan was by no means the perfect — name a thing, but at least her boys wouldn't see the same things she had. Well, Chris wouldn't. She hadn't spared Henry from of her less than wholesome past.

"Yeah, I can't believe Mrs. Blue is still teaching English and Henry is in her class now," Emma said with a chuckle. "That kills me."

Movement near Ruby's table pulled her attention for a moment. And Emma saw her friends giving her the thumbs up. Well, August was. Jefferson was shaking his head at August. And Ruby was holding up two fingers and thrusting them into a loose fist, giving her a very pointed look. Emma rolled her eyes.

"Am I boring you, Ms. Swan?" Regina asked.

Emma stammered. "No — I — it's just my asshole friends." She pointed and Regina glanced behind her to where the others were sitting. "Ruby, August, and Jefferson. I've known them my whole life."

"Oh, I see," Regina replied, sipping her martini. "You can join them. I didn't mean to keep you."

"No, it's fine," Emma assured her. "They see me all of the time. And I don't know if you caught the part about them being gaping assholes."

Regina laughed. And that laugh rolled along Emma's skin and she almost shivered but thankfully didn't, covering — or at least attempting to cover the near slip up with a swig of her beer. There was no point in getting a crush on someone that was 1. The mother of her son's best friend. And 2. was probably — most definitely straight. So Emma pushed whatever that was aside to focus on what this was supposed to be, just two mothers getting to know each other because their children were close. Nothing more.

"I did catch that," Regina affirmed, meeting Emma's eyes. "But that makes me wonder about you. There's a quote. 'Be wary of the company you keep, for they are a reflection of who you are, or who you want to be.' So are you a gaping asshole, Emma? Or do you aspire to be one?"

Emma chuckled and shook her head. Regina had gotten her. It's what she'd ask her son (perhaps minus the asshole bit) if he had said something like that about his friends. So it was a fair question. One Emma had walked right into. So it was only reasonable she gave an honest answer.

"I have my moments," Emma confessed, a sly smile curling her lips. Her beer was empty so she set her glass aside but didn't order another. "What about you, Regina? Would you say you have some asshole moments?"

The other woman thought about it or maybe she was pausing for dramatic effect. "I think everyone does, don't you?"

"Do you always answer a question with another question?" Emma asked.

Regina finished her drink, but she blushed slightly. Either from the alcohol or maybe Emma had gotten her. She wasn't evasive, Regina just didn't wear her heart on her sleeve. She didn't hide. But to Emma, she was still a mystery.

"Sometimes," Regina told her but didn't say anything else. At least at first. Then she looked at Emma. "So you mentioned Henry's father…"

"Neal." Emma took a deep breath and let it out. "He grew up here too."

"Let me guess," Regina began trying to break some of the tension. "Boy from the wrong side of the tracks who swept you off your feet?"

That did make her laugh but not for the reasons Regina was probably thinking. "No," Emma replied, truthfully. "That was me. I was the one from the wrong side of the tracks. Literally. There's an old rail line that cuts through town along the southeast edge. The area there is called the Bottoms. Well, that's what we call it."

"You grew up there?" Regina asked.

Emma nodded. "Yup. What about you? Where'd you grow up?"

"New York — Specifically, Brooklyn Heights," Regina answered.

"And now you're here." Of course, there was a whole middle Emma was glossing over.

"Yes," Regina paused. "I don't want to pry but Henry's father — he passed away when Henry was very young. Roland mentioned it."

She looked down at the bar counter for a moment before she spoke. There hadn't been a day in the last 11 years that she hadn't thought about Neal. He was supposed to be it for her. At least that had been the plan. But as the old saying goes, 'We plan and the gods laugh.' Some days it feels like Emma's been the butt of some cosmic joke for far too long.

"Yes," Emma almost whispered it but she knew Regina wouldn't be able to hear her. "Henry was three — almost four."

"It must have been hard," Regina commented. "Raising Henry by yourself."

"It was."

"And Christopher's father?"

"Exists. We went our separate ways before Chris was born. He isn't in our lives anymore." Emma nodded toward her. "What about Roland's father? He's still in the picture?"

"We share custody," Regina explained but said nothing else. Again, playing things really close to the chest. Emma didn't want to press. But she also needed to know. However, before she could say anything Regina continued. "The divorce was finalized a year ago."

It got silent for a moment between them. Neither of them knew how to steer this conversation back to something light and breezy. Then Emma had an idea.

"Shots?" Emma offered.

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"

"Rum?"

"I don't do rum." The other woman paused. "Only in Coquito. And only at Christmas." Upon Emma's perplexed expression, Regina explained. "It's Coconut Nog. More or less."

"Alright. So whiskey?"

Regina shook her head. "No. We're not pirates or bikers, dear. What are your thoughts on tequila?"

Emma had a lot of thoughts on tequila actually. But no clear memories of tequila. Which may be where several of her thoughts on that particular alcohol. She didn't want to seem rude. It just wasn't her poison of choice.

"I don't really like limes." That was at least true. "I think that just leaves us with vodka or gin."

Regina scrunched her nose. So those were out. Or so Emma thought. "Have you ever had tequila with orange and cinnamon instead?"

Emma gave her a look like that was the craziest thing she had ever head. "No, I can't say that I've ever done that."

"You seem to have an open mind so I suppose the question is do you trust me?" Regina asked, her lips quirking in a smile.

And Emma couldn't say no. "Alright. Line 'em up."

They flagged down the bartender and after explaining their request he was happy to give them what they needed; a small plate of orange wedges and a shaker of cinnamon. He poured them two shots each and Regina paid this time.

"This is the darkest tequila I've ever seen," Emma commented.

Regina hummed in agreement. "It's Añejo Tequila. It means aged. It's the scotch of tequila."

That Emma understood. Scotch was whiskey aged in oak barrels. "Ok, so what do I do? Because if you want me to lick raw cinnamon off my hand — that's a hard limit for me."

Regina's eyebrow arched at Emma's joke. But she let it lie. "We won't be pushing any boundaries tonight, Emma. You'll sprinkle it on the orange wedge." She demonstrated it as she spoke and Emma mimicked her, wearily. "After you take the shot, you'll bite down on the wedge."

Emma studied her for a moment and then nodded. "Ok. But I'm putting my trust in you, Regina. That's a sacred pact."

"Hopefully, I won't disappoint."

Emma raised a shot glass. "Cheers."

Regina nodded. "Salud."

They clinked glasses and Emma downed her shot. It was strong like any aged liquor was but as soon as bit into the orange wedge it mellowed out and was smooth.

"That actually wasn't terrible," Emma said, readying her second orange wedge.

"It's the only way I'll drink it," Regina told her as she mirrored Emma.

They took their shots and continued to talk. The tension from briefly broaching the subject of the fathers of their children had faded away and there was a certain ease now. Regina wasn't like an old friend but it wasn't stiff or stilled anymore. The tequila seemed to have helped so they had another in the middle of their conversation. Then Regina laughed at something dorky Emma said and she pushed at her shoulder playfully but the move must have drawn Regina's attention to Emma's tattoos, because her touch lingered for a second too long.

"It's beautiful artwork," Regina said. "Was it all done by the same artist?"

Emma warmed, either by Regina's touch on her exposed skin or the three shots of tequila. Or a combination thereof. And her cheeks flushed. "Uh — Yeah. Jefferson actually did all of it."

Regina's fingers traced some of them. "Do they all have a particular meaning?"

Emma's skin raised in goosebumps but she still managed to nod. "Yes. They tell a story. Well, each sleeve tells a different one."

Regina's eyes rolled up and it was only then that Emma realized how close they were. She could smell the other woman's perfume and the liquor mixed with citrus and spice on her breath. Emma swallowed against the lump in her throat, waiting for Regina to speak so she didn't have risk saying profoundly stupid. Jesus Christ, she didn't even know Regina was into women. No need making an idiot out of herself.

Again, this was Roland's mother. And Roland was her son's best friend. When Emma did the math it just wasn't something she wanted anything to do with.

"Regina, I know I was running late," a voice sounded. "But I didn't expect you to get started without me."

They broke apart and Regina straightened up as they both looked at the woman who spoke. She was gorgeous. Dark skin, dark features, tight curls framing an oval face. She looked familiar. But Emma couldn't place her.

"Tiana, I'm sorry, I ran into Emma and we got a little caught up," Regina explained. "Our sons go to school together."

"Hi," Emma greeted awkwardly.

Regina groaned. "Forgive my horrible manners. Emma, this Tiana Baker. We work together. Tiana, this is Emma Swan."

"It's good to meet you, Emma." Tiana reached out and shook Emma's hand. "Regina's being modest. She's the reason I went from singing in church to selling out stadiums."

Emma frowned in confusion and then it clicked. "Holy shit, you're Tiana. My four year old loves your music."

Tiana chuckled. "Not my targeted audience. But I'm glad he likes it. I wouldn't mind meeting him. I mean, anything for a friend of Regina's."

"You'd make me the best mom in the universe if you did that," Emma replied.

"I'll see what I can do. I have a pretty rigid recording schedule. My producer is a real tyrant," Tiana confessed.

Regina folded her arms in front of her. "Someone has to make sure you get this album done on time."

Emma's eyes widen. She didn't make the connection. Henry said she was in the music business. But Emma had no idea Roland's mother was Regina Mills, producer for about 10 number one hits in the last 5 years.

"Which is why I'm surprised you called me to go out," Tiana told Regina. "Speaking of which, let's get a table. I have some catching up to do."

Emma hesitated. "Um — Well, I came here with some friends."

Tiana shrugged. "Bring them. I don't mind."

"You say that now."


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina keep the good times going. Then someone has a little too much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: For slight homophobia and fetishization of lesbians (no, it's not August that does it). Violence (No one we care about gets hurt).

It was all laughter and drinks and good times. Emma had switched to water a while ago, as she knew her limits. No more going shot for shot with people twice her size. Besides, there was something about being in her 30s that just — the effects of a hangover hit her with the force of a Mack Truck now. In her late teens and early 20s, Emma could get shitfaced and be fine after six hours of sleep, drinking a water bottle, and eating a banana. Now, she'd be in her bed all morning feeling like her whole body had dry mouth.

Still, the conversation had been light and easy. They didn't talk about Tiana's fame or Regina's job. To Emma's surprise, her friends weren't trying to push either of them into listening to a demo. Maybe things had changed. Not in any discernible way. But to someone that knew them, like Emma, they had matured. Jefferson was like her though, old soul, and a young father. They both had to grow up quick. Ruby and August had rosy childhoods comparatively.

Something hadn't changed though. Especially when August suggested they play "Truth or Drink." Which was a bit like Truth or Dare, only one didn't have to do something ridiculous if they didn't want to answer the question.

"So, Tiana," August began, taking a drink from his glass before replacing it on the table. "Who's your favorite superhero?"

"Shuri," Tiana replied. "Obviously. Because hashtag: black girl magic. Hashtag: Wakanda forever." She paused and then nodded toward Jefferson. "What's your house in Game of Thrones?"

"Dark hair, blue eyes," Jefferson reasoned. "I'd say I'm a Baratheon." He looked at Ruby and asked, "Rubes, Jedi or Sith?"

She grinned. "Sith. If only for the red lightsabers." She took a sip of her third cosmo before she asked, Regina, "So, who would you side with Magento or Professor X?"

Emma didn't expect her to know who either of those two men were but Regina surprised her. "Magneto," she answered. "He made some very compelling points."

"Wait, you're familiar with the X-Men?" Emma asked.

Regina smiled. "I don't believe that's how this game is played."

Emma's cheeks flushed. "Right, I guess it's my turn."

"Yes," Regina replied. "But I promise I'll be gentle."

Emma choked on air, covering it up with a cough. August and Ruby saw it. And if Jeff did too, at least he had the wherewithal to not cast a knowing look in her direction. She recovered with the help of some water and signaled Regina to continue.

"What's your Hogwarts House?"

Again, Regina had surprised her. Emma had found Harry Potter at the age of 15. It made sense that she was drawn to it. But Regina was older. By how much, Emma wasn't sure. Could be a year, could be more. But Harry Potter wasn't something people just started talking about in a casual conversation. Even one that was center around geek culture.

"Slytherin," Emma admitted.

"Slytherin?"

Emma shrugged. "I'm resourceful, cunning, ambitious in my own way, determined, pragmatic. And I've got cleverness for days. I protect my own. And I protect myself. I do a lot of things out of spite. I'm a Scorpio which is a water sign. Slytherin's element is water. And I'd look amazing in green and silver."

Regina looked at her like this was the first time she saw Emma. And yes, a part of her understood. People saw her appearance, saw that she was young for having a teenager and assumed things about her. But the truth was, Emma was much more than her book cover. That was all decoration.

"Are you certain about that?" Regina asked after a moment.

Emma nodded and turned so Regina could see her shoulder. She pulled the back of the tank top to the side and revealed the Slytherin crest tattooed on her shoulder. "Sure enough that I got this."

"You are an enigma, Ms. Swan," Regina commented.

And Emma chuckled, correcting her before she asked August something about his favorite James Bond. And of course, he answered incorrectly. There were only two wrong answers. And he picked one of the two. Because he's terrible. And it went around like that for a while. The six of them laughing, asking ridiculous questions. Nothing truly revealing. Unless one knew how to look. Everyone had tells, little things that gave them away. And Emma was well versed in most of them. Her husband was world heavyweight champion of liars. So she could catch the tiny things that people tried to hide. Or didn't. And from the way Regina studied Emma every time she answered a question, so could she.

After a while, Emma had to get away. It was getting too much. She needed a break. A moment to herself where she could recharge before she excused herself for the evening to walk back to Ruby's apartment where her car was and then drive home. Emma didn't mind giving anyone the basics. Mom, dad, kids. Light and breezy. Because if people peeled back the layers they wouldn't like what they saw.

She nudged Jefferson and he moved so she could stand. When Ruby looked at her questioning, Emma tapped her cigarette box, and her friend nodded in acknowledgment.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she assured everyone before she walked toward the front of the bar. Emma pushed passed the door and stepped outside, walking around so she was less likely to run into someone. Once she was safely tucked away, leaning against Jefferson's car parked near the side of the Rabbit Hole, she lit a cigarette and sighed. The tension in her shoulders faded away as she pulled that first toxic drag from her cancer stick.

Unless someone was a smoker they'd never understand. Cigarettes were like a pressure release value. Because sometimes — most times life was too much. Something had to give, or she'd explode. There was another option, like picking up a serious drug habit. Which was not as fun as it sounded. So Emma thought she picked the lesser of two evils in this case. The repetitive act helped center her; get her head on straight.

The distinctive sound of heels on asphalt pulled her back to reality before she heard someone call, "Ms. Swan."

Emma didn't say anything, opting instead to use her cigarette to light another, before she flicked it away.

"Emma?" Regina rounded the corner, arching an eyebrow when she realized that Emma had been within earshot this whole time. "Do you make a habit of ignoring people calling out your name?"

"Depends on what I'm doing at the time."

Thankfully her poorly crafted innuendo wasn't noticed, and if it was Regina let it go quickly. Instead, she drew closer and held out her hand.

"May I?" Regina gestured toward her cigarette.

Emma frowned because she remembered how this woman gave her all kinds of hell for smoking. "Do you want your own?"

"I don't think I could finish my own."

"Do you have cooties?"

Regina smiled, softly. "I'm afraid so. I am a survivor of the Great Cootie Outbreak of '89. But now I'm a carrier."

That pulled a chuckle from Emma as she handed over her cigarette. "Good thing I was vaccinated."

They shared the cigarette and Regina didn't ask any prying questions. Emma felt comfortable again, not so much on the spot. It was just two adults sharing a cigarette. They talked about their children and their work. Regina wasn't drunk, but Emma noticed a discernable sway that indicated that her royal majesty had a nice buzz going.

"So the Marine takes the fork," Emma was at the tail end of a joke. "And he goes..." She pretended to stab herself all over her body. "'Fuck your canoes.'"

It was a dumb joke. A little outdated. But it aged better than most jokes. And surprisingly enough, Regina laughed, pushing at Emma's shoulder like she had in the bar. However, this time when her touch lingered, the laughter faded from her eyes.

The moment — the almost-moment was shattered the second someone let out a loud wolf whistle.

"Normally, you have to pay good money to see this kind of live action."

Emma recognized the voice immediately and her whole body tensed. "Walk it off, Keith."

He still looked the same. Older, of course. But there still that air of arrogant bastard all around him. It was only made worse when he became a deputy. Now he thought he was untouchable. And Emma would be lying if she said she didn't see more than a few traits that he and Killian shared.

"Which one of you is the man?" he called to them.

"We're both women," Regina fired back. "That's the whole crux of the argument, isn't it? Now run along before you irritate me any further with this rather pathetic display of masculinity."

Keith charged forward and Emma stepped in between them on instinct. Besides, she was dressed for this. Regina was in heels. Not very tactical. Though, very effective weaponry if one was ever in a pinch.

"Back. The. Fuck. Off. Keith." Emma was waiting for the swing. Because guys like him always swung first. Always.

And sure enough he tried for punch, some would be haymaker if Emma was quick. But she was. Tomorrow this would hurt, overextended muscles, sore shoulder. Knocking Keith on his ass would make it worth it. She ducked and weaved, catching him in the midsection before she jumped back to pull his attention away from the other woman, who was now behind him. And just as Emma was going to lay him out, Regina called to him. Keith took the bait and she rocked his head back with a jab to the chin before she caught him with an uppercut. Keith's knees buckled and he didn't some much fall to the ground as turn into a giant pile of human Jell-O.

Emma rushed over to Regina without even looking to see Keith was seriously hurt. "Are you ok?"

The skin on Regina's knuckles had split open slightly, already swelling. "My hands…"

"We gotta ice it. Come on. We can take your car and go to my place."

Regina shook her head. "My house is closer. Besides we've been drinking and we just scolded our sons for this very thing."

Emma nodded, Regina was right. But since they were never telling their sons what happened tonight, she had one more thing to do. "One second."

She turned around, just as Keith was trying to get to his feet and with an almost running start, Emma kicked him in the face. It'd be a few minutes before he came to now. And just to make sure he wouldn't put anyone else in danger, she searched his pockets for his keys and cell phone. Once Emma found those, she threw the keys as far away from him as she could, and called the Sheriff's station, placing the phone near him.

Emma turned back around and understandably found a very stunned Regina. She didn't even know what to say, so she just shrugged. "I told you I was a Slytherin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that the joke that Emma tells Regina isn't terrible. It's just lame. It was actually the first joke I memorize. My mom told me it. And I'm pretty sure it was something my dad told her. Anyway, if anyone wants to know the joke shot me an ask on Tumblr and I'll tell you the joke. I'm going to keep these chapters shorter than I normally write so I can put them out quicker while I still work on other ongoing stuff. :D Well, I hope you enjoyed the updates.


	10. Chapter 9

Tonight was full of surprises. If someone had asked Regina how she saw her evening winding down it would not be in her kitchen with swollen knuckles while the mother of her son's best friend got a bag of ice ready. She definitely saw the younger woman in a different light. Emma had not hesitated. She just acted. Quick, and brutal. And while that gave Regina pause, it also intrigued her. Emma had no qualms about striking an opponent while they were down. And yet, she had also taken the time to call the Sheriff's station. It wasn't the epitome of nobility and yet it wasn't heartless either.

I protect my own, Emma had said. And Regina felt that in the way that she cared for her now and at the bar. She insisted that Regina sit down and not to move, zipping around until she found everything she needed, ice packs in the freezer, and a first aid kit under the sink.

"You're one of those moms that has a first aid kit in every room, aren't you?" Emma commented as she sat down across from Regina.

"Not in every room," the older woman countered.

Emma looked at her knowingly. "How many do you have?"

Regina's pressed into a tight line. "Seven." When the younger woman chuckled she cut her eyes at her. "That's not every room."

Emma smirked as she dabbed a cotton ball in peroxide. "Just most of them."

A hissed escaped Regina at the first contact of the cotton ball on her open wound. "¡Coño!"

Although she laughed, Emma still blew on the wound to soothe the sting from the peroxide. "You got a mean uppercut, Regina," she told her. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Heat crept up her face as she watched Emma. She had had too much to drink. That was the only reason she was having this kind of reaction to such a simple gesture.

"My father taught me," Regina explained. "He used to say, 'A veces es la princesa quién mata al dragón y salva al príncipe,'" Off Emma's confused look she translated. "Sometimes it's the princess who kills the dragon and saves the prince. So he made sure that my sister and I could slay a dragon or two if we needed to."

Before she could ask where Emma learned, the younger woman cut in with another question of her own as she now applied topical ointment on Regina's hand.

"What about your mom?" she asked. "If your dad taught you how to throw a punch, what did your mom teach you?"

Regina smirked. "How to throw insults."

"Both good skills to have." Emma continued to dress the little cuts as she spoke. "So that was Keith Nott at the bar. I went to high school with him. And he's still the same asshole he was 15 years ago. Even has the same jokes. He'd always give me shit in high school for dating this girl."

"You're bisexual." It wasn't a question. Because Emma had given Regina the answer already. Still, the older woman wanted to make sure she had heard correctly.

"I like to identify as pansexual."

"Is there a difference?" That time it was a question.

Emma shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, people more knowledgeable than me could probably debate about it. That's just what I say. "

"So, you've dated women after high school?"

"Yes," the younger woman confessed before she clarified, "Well — a woman after high school. I spent a good portion of my 20s married. Didn't leave too much room to date."

She didn't know what to say to that. She had just met Emma and already they were having a deeper conversation than Regina with most of her friends. She wasn't an open book. And yet — it was almost like they had known each other for years. It was just that easy being around her. Even after finding out what her job was, Emma didn't treat her any differently. And that was refreshing.

Regina didn't want to let go of this just yet so she offered up a bit of herself once Emma was done seeing to the abrasions of her hands.

"I dated a woman," Regina revealed. "Briefly. In college. Before I met Roland's father."

"Oh?" Emma called over her shoulder as she replaced the first aid kit.

Regina acknowledged her with a hum. "Yes, one of the assistant professors."

The smile that Emma had when she returned was bright and her laughter filled the room as she teased Regina. "Scandalous."

"And you?" Regina thought it best not to take the bait.

Emma thought about it for a moment and then she replied very plainly with, "A little more scandalous."

Of course, Regina needed to know more. "How so?"

Again, the younger woman offered a very blunt response. "I was married for one. She was engaged for another. I saw her once after I left my ex."

But Emma's being dimmed at the omission. It wasn't guilt. Regina was all too familiar with that particular emotion. She knew it when she saw it. No, this was longing. This was the aftermath of a love lost, of being on the wrong side of a breakup. As if there was a right side.

"Did you think she would break things off to be with you?" Regina asked, her voice soft as if she was afraid that the question would scare Emma off. But really, she was terrified that this would give her away. Because it seemed that she and Emma had more in common than she had first thought. Or at least their sins were similar.

Emma shook her head. "No. Never." And then she sighed. "It just would have been nice if she had."

Regina almost wanted to laugh. But it wouldn't appropriate nor would it be a happy laugh. She wondered — no, it was best not to dwell on the past.

"Would you mind sharing another cigarette with me?" Regina finally asked.

"I think I can manage that," Emma replied.

"Follow me, dear," Regina beckoned as she stood and led her guest outside to the back patio.

It was the reason she had fallen in love with this house. It was spacious and open but the dense vegetation that surrounded the area gave her some privacy. She liked how quiet it got at night when she would sneak out here herself for a cigarette and a glass of wine. It was serene. Peaceful. But not for Emma, who seemed to fidget nervously in the silence. The cigarette helped, the act giving her something to focus on before she passed it to Regina with a sheepish grin.

"Thank you, Emma," she told the younger woman.

"It's nothing," Emma insisted. "You laid out a guy for me. I think that merits a cigarette. I won't even give you shit for the hell you gave me for smoking this afternoon."

Regina's eyes fluttered as she rolled them but still took a long drag from the cigarette. "Your magnanimity knows no bounds."

"Yeah, that's me," Emma agreed. "All noble and shit." Then she paused as if going over something in her head before she spoke again. "Ok, you get one question."

The older woman peered at her, bringing the cigarette to her lips again as she studied her. Then it clicked. "You knew tonight was —"

"An interrogation?" Emma offered. "Yeah, and I get it. Roland is your son. You want to make sure that Henry is a good influence."

"Emma, I'm—"

But again she was cut off. "Regina, I said I understood. You don't have to apologize. It's fine. Just don't judge my kid on what happened tonight. I'm a do as I say, not as I do type anyway."

Regina laughed at the joke. "I doubt that. But I agree that perhaps we shouldn't judge our children based on how we behaved."

"Yes, even if that asshole had it coming and it was wicked awesome when you hit him with the whole one-two punch."

She passed the cigarette back to Emma and chuckled. "It was satisfying. But not something that I think we should tell the boys."

Emma nodded in agreement. "Yes, completely agree. We did tell them that fighting wasn't the answer. It might send the wrong message if we tell him about how you kicked some guy's ass."

Regina cut her eyes at the younger woman as she smoked. "I recall having some help."

"Naw, I just softened him up," Emma insisted. "You could've taken him one-on-one. No doubt."

"You would have done fine without me," Regina told her.

"Maybe," Emma said with a shrug, giving Regina the cigarette to finish off. "But I'm glad I had some backup."

"So am I," Regina agreed and snuffed out the cigarette.

"Well," Emma began. "I should probably go. I promised my son's friend's mom that I wouldn't close the bar down."

Her words, pulled at the ends of Regina's lips until she smiled. "She sounds like a piece of work."

"I think she'd surprise you," Emma said with a wink. "Oh, before I forget. I texted Ruby and asked her to bring my car tomorrow. So I might be a little late bringing the boys by."

"Thank you for letting me know," Regina replied. "Let me walk you to the door."

"You didn't ask your question," Emma said as they reached the door.

"I think I'll save it for later."

"Fair enough. Make it a good one though."

They exchanged goodbyes and Regina watched Emma walk down the steps and stroll down the sidewalk toward her home. Regina offered to call Tiana's driver but Emma insisted that it was only a 20-minute walk and she'd be fine. Taking her at her word, Regina closed the door, foregoing locking it though every instinct told her to. This was Storybrooke after all. If what Emma said was true, this town wasn't a pit of criminal activity.

Regina got ready for bed, making sure to ice her knuckles for a bit as she sent a few texts to Tiana to make sure her friend knew she was ok. The text she received in response made her laugh.

"I leave you alone for five minutes and you're starting fights with the locals. But I'm glad you and your future ex-wife are fine."

Regina didn't mention the future ex-wife comment. Emma was just a friend. Perhaps. It was unclear. And more to the point, she was Henry's mother. Yes, she was attractive. Yes, Emma intrigued Regina. But that was as far as it could go. That was her thought when her head hit the pillow and sleep pulled her under.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this was gonna be a slow burn fic, well... (Smut Warning)

It was the sound of knocking that roused Regina from her sleep. She slipped out of bed, running a hand through her hair and rubbing the sleep from her eyes as her feet carried her downstairs and towards the door. She didn't bother looking to see what time it was, it was late. Or very early. It didn't matter. Regina was too sleep deprived to decide. Whoever was knocking on her door at this hour was going to suffer a horrible, slow death.

But when she flung open her front door what she saw gave her pause. It was Emma, dressed as she had been tonight. Dark tank top, blue jeans. And she had a sheepish grin on her face; one hand in her back pocket the other scratching the back of her neck.

"Emma?" Regina asked, blinking in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I forgot something," she replied.

"What did you forget?"

Emma stepped in, over the threshold. She was in Regina's space, shutting the door, and pushing her back toward the nearest wall. Her eyes bore into her as she closed the distance. She was close, leaning in, one hand braced on the wall, but she hadn't touched her yet.

"This." The younger woman's lips brushed hers but Emma stopped there. "I'm going to kiss you. I'm going to kiss you hard. Long. I'm going to kiss you in a way that makes you ache for me. I'm gonna—"

Regina didn't let her finish, she threw her arms around Emma's neck, and made this woman make good on her promise. To kiss her hard, long — to kiss her until she ached for Emma. She lost herself in the kiss. It took her breath away, made her knees buckle, made her skin hum. Made it was the last bit of alcohol leaving her system but everything was fuzzy. Blurry. It was like that no matter how much Regina tried to hold onto this moment it slipped through her fingers.

Emma was skilled in working her up. She knew just how to touch her to set her blood on fire. Slowly, the younger woman slid her hands down Regina's sides, gliding over her curves. Those hands drifted behind her, cupped her ass and pulled her against Emma, pulling a whimper from the older woman.

"I wanted to do this all night," Emma whispered to her as she kissed along her jawline. "I loved that dress you wore."

The younger woman's knee was between Regina's legs now, her thigh pressing into her center. It should have offered some kind of relief but didn't. It only served to frustrate her. She became narrowly focused. If Regina could form any coherent thought, she may have wondered if this was right or were they moving too quickly. However, Emma was unbuttoning her shirt and Regina couldn't think of a good enough reason to stop her. It had been over a year since anyone had touched her like this. It wasn't just that she was touched starved, Regina thought this part of her was dead and gone. Like she had lost it in the divorce. Maybe even before that. Which was why—

"Hey, hey," Emma called to her, softly. One hand was cupping Regina's face, the pad of her thumb brushing her cheek. "Stay with me."

The older woman blinked until she could focus and with a nod, Regina spoke. "I'm here."

The smile Emma flash was brilliant and blinding. Soft but enchanting. She dipped back in and capture her lips in a kiss that left Regina spinning. She felt her body awake, nerve endings on rapid fire, desire pooling in her stomach, as her hips rolled against the younger woman. Searching for relief but finding none.

"It's ok, Regina," Emma husked in her ear, her hands sliding up Regina's bare torso until those impossibly warm hands cupped her breasts. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

Regina bit her lip and whimpered, her hands in Emma's hair so she could bring her lips to hers again. The kiss was soft, sensual. It was— everything. Regina was trying to keep herself tethered to reality but she felt like she was floating outside of herself. She could see Emma kissing her, touching her, fingers dancing along her skin, making her body tremble with need.

"Oh, god," Regina breathed, her head tipped back as Emma kissed down the cords of her neck, sucking so lightly on her pulse point. She moaned for this woman, her body begging Emma not to stop. "Please…"

"Please, what?" The young woman smirked as she pulled away just enough to look at her clearly. One hand dipped lower, fingers skimming the waistband of Regina's pajama bottoms. "Tell me what you need, Regina."

She tried twice before she answered Emma, finally finding her voice. "Touch me. God, just keep touching me."

Emma nodded in response and continued her exploration. She never lingered, she also never gave Regina what she wanted. Emma always left her wanting a little more. Every kiss, every touch wasn't long enough, it wasn't hard enough. All she did was tease her mercilessly. Like she had no goal in mind. And Regina whimpered and moaned, trying to encourage Emma to give her some kind of relief to no avail. However, the older woman was determined for this to come to some kind of conclusion.

"Emma, please." Regina didn't beg. She never begged. But the younger woman's touch had her yearning for more. She needed this. She wanted this. And if Emma didn't give it to her, she was going burn up on the spot.

With a smirk that made Regina impossibly aroused and so slick she thought she was going to pass out, Emma slowly got to her knees, taking the older woman's pajama bottoms with her. Regina gasped when she felt a rush of cool air on her bare lower half. Normally she might feel exposed. She didn't really know Emma, they were in her foyer still, and there was the little, added bonus that her door had a giant glass window in. But Regina didn't feel insecure. She couldn't even focus enough to be bothered to care about all of this. She just needed some kind of release and soon.

"Patience," Emma whispered. "We're going to get there. I just like to take my time."

Regina hoped so. Because it was becoming unbearable. She looked down and watched as the other woman eased her legs open (as open this position would allow) and kissed along the inside of her thigh. Again it was slow and languid. She teased and enticed. Her touch danced along her bare skin.

"Fuck," the other woman breathed almost in awe. "You smell so fucking good."

"Wait…"

Emma looked up at her with a quizzical expression and Regina lower herself, half braced against the wall sit, straddling the younger woman's thighs. She cupped Emma's face and smiled. "I want your lips on mine when you make me come."

The grin she flashed made Regina's heart flutter. "How do you know that's what I'm planning on doing here?"

"Well, other than the fact that you came barreling in here and disrobed me?" Regina replied, playfully. "I think you're capable, dear."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," Emma purred, her fingers sliding over her center, before she slipped through soft folds, and entered her slowly. "But you're gonna find out."

"Oh my god." Regina gasped her arms snaking behind Emma's neck and the younger woman allowed for time for her to acclimate to her touch.

"Are you still with me?" Emma asked and when she nodded, she began to move in and out of her slowly.

And it felt— God, it felt— it was ineffable. This indescribable sensation that Regina couldn't quantify. Time faded away. The world slipped away. All that she could focus on was Emma's touch. Her voice when she whispered to her. The way she filled her. How she matched the rolling of Regina's hips.

Emma was right. She had no idea what she was capable of.

She didn't know how long they had been this, working this steady rhythm up between them. Emma's fingers gliding in and out of her. But she found herself spiraling ever closer to her climax. She couldn't even form the words to tell the younger woman she was close. But somehow, Emma knew. Somehow she did all of the right things that had Regina trembling in her arms.

And then…

Regina woke with a gasp. Her eyes finding herself in the darkness of her bedroom. It took her a minute to realize where she was. She sat in her bed with a frustrated groan. It had felt so real and she had been so goddamn close. That was the tragedy of it. She had been close and now she was far.

Fantastic.

With a sigh, she plopped back down on her bed. This didn't mean anything. It was just a dream. Something brought on by alcohol and the conversation she had with Emma before the latter walked home. She certainly was developing feelings for her son's best friend's mother. Because — no, it was impossible. She didn't see Emma in that way… did she?

"Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, still a Slow Burn fict. I just couldn't resist. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina deals with the aftermath of her dream and calls her sister for some advice. Of course that's not Zelena's style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating. I stepped away to write a bunch so I could update more regularly. Hope you enjoy this chapter. There's some sisterly WickedQueen that I really enjoyed writing. Zelena is the best when she's giving Regina a hard time but not trying to destroy her life.

The morning had come and gone with no further incident. Regina didn't think too much into her dream last night. Nor did she think about Emma.

That was a lie.

It was all she thought about the whole morning. She thought about it when she made her morning cup of coffee. She thought about it when she drank said coffee with her morning cigarette. She thought about it in the shower. She thought about it when she took care of her mild frustration due to thinking about in the shower. She thought about as she got dressed. She thought about it when she had breakfast. She especially thought about it when Roland called her in the morning and she could hear Emma's voice in the background. She thought about it when she ate lunch.

"This is ridiculous."

And it was. Because — well, because… Actually, Regina didn't have a good enough reason. Other than the fact that she was Henry's mother. But that was reason enough. She couldn't pursue anything with Emma because of Henry's connection to her son. And she wasn't going to do that to Roland.

After cleaning up, Regina reached for her phone and pressed 3 on her speed dial. It rang twice before she was greeted with a light, "Regina, my dear sister."

She smiled despite herself. "Zelena, how are you?"

"Wonderful, sis. Everything's all rainbows and roses," her older sister replied. "To what do I owe the honor of this phone call?"

"Well, I—" Regina didn't know how to put it to words. "I had a dream."

"Ah, yes," her sister began, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Dr. King's less popular speech." When Regina groaned, she could hear Zelena chuckled. "I'm sorry. So, you had a dream. What was it about?" There was a pause. "Our dear father wants to know if it was a sex dream." Another pause. "Mother would like to know as well."

She was so thankful that her sister and apparently her parents couldn't see her face. Because it had turned a deep shade of red. But because she hadn't said anything Zelena chuckled.

"It  _was_ a sex dream."

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait. Wait. I'll walk away. One second." The next bit was for their parents. "No, it wasn't a sex dream. She just needs some sisterly advice." Regina heard a door open and close. "So, about your sex dream."

"Yes, say it the crudest way possible," Regina deadpanned.

"Oh, sis, if that's the crudest you think I can be, I haven't been working hard enough."

She sighed at her sister's words. "This was a mistake."

"What's done is done," Zelena told her. "So this dream, sis, well out with it. The sooner you tell me, the sooner it'll be over."

"You're going to tease me," Regina said.

"That goes without saying," was Zelena's blunt response. "I'm your older sister."

Again, she sighed. "Fine. I had a — a sex dream." Regina whispered it as if someone was going to overhear her. "And the parent of Roland's best friend played a starring role."

"Oh, really?" Regina could hear the smile in her sister's voice. "Well, is he single?"

"Yes,  _she_ is," was her simple omission and she waited. Because she knew her older sister. Zelena was a gossip and any bit of juicy information had her cooing with delight. So, of course, she didn't disappoint in that regard.

"And the plot thickens, sis." Zelena paused and then asked, "Was the dream sex good at least?"

Regina swore under her breath. "¿¡Quieres callarte la pinche boca!? And just listen to me? It doesn't matter if it was good or not." It had been but that wasn't the point. "She has a connection to Roland's friend. I shouldn't be having a sex dream about her."

"You can't control your dreams, Regina," Zelena told her. "And you didn't call me because you're concerned over a dream. You're worried that perhaps you do have some kind of feelings for this woman." When Regina didn't respond, she continued. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Before she could deny it, there was a knock on the door, and her stomach sunk. "I have to go, Zelena. Someone's at the door. You're coming to dinner tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Take care, sis."

"You too."

The call ended and Regina made her way to the door. She saw the silhouette of at least three bodies. Though one of them had two heads. She smiled despite herself, knowing that Roland, Henry, Emma, and Chris were on the other side of the door. Though she wondered why her son hadn't used his key.

"Just one second."

She opened the door and was greeted by her son at the forefront, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was wearing shorts and a polo t-shirt with sneakers. Henry was right next to him wearing jeans and a t-shirt with his own backpack on. Emma was behind the boy's wearing jeans and a red tank top. Regina wondered briefly how many tank tops she had. But it didn't matter. Chris was in her arms in shorts and t-shirt with dinosaurs on it.

"Hi, Miss 'Gina!" the little boy waved.

"Hello, Christopher," she greeted. "How are you?"

"Good," he replied, happily.

"Hi, mom," Roland said as he walked by her, stopping to kiss her cheek and she did the same.

"Good afternoon, papito," she said. "How was your sleepover?"

"Mami, it was so awesome," Roland told her. "Ms. Swan—" Off of Emma's look he corrected himself. "Emma woke us up in the morning. And we played Battlefield together. And we owned everyone. Emma's a level 50 Colonel, mami. And then we went out for pancakes. After that, we played some Overwatch and then we had burgers."

Regina looked at Emma who smiled and which in turn made her smile. "I'm glad you have fun." And then she glanced at Henry as she made room for them to enter. "Henry, please make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Ms. Mills," Henry replied, politely before he followed Roland inside.

The boys were just inside the foyer when Roland noticed the bandaids on Regina's hand. "¿Mami, qué pasó? ¿Estás bien?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Regina told him. "It's nothing. I just hurt my hands last night."

Roland's brow furrowed with concern. "Doing what?"

That's when Emma stepped in. "That was my fault, actually. I ran into your mom at the Rabbit Hole last night. We were walking out and I slipped, grabbed your mom to steady myself but ended up taking her with me."

Regina chuckled. "Emma is quite the clutz."

Emma laughed too. "Yeah, especially after a beer."

Quickly changing the subject, Regina suggested that Roland and Henry could go upstairs and that she'd call them down for dinner when it was ready. The boys didn't have to be told twice and were practically running up the stairs.

"I'll see you tomorrow, kid," Emma called after her son. "Don't cause any trouble."

"Ok, mom," Regina heard Henry reply.

Emma just shakes her head. "Teenagers."

Regina would have said something about that, but Chris whined, "Mommy, I wanna stay wif Henwy."

Emma kissed his cheek. "We talked about this buddy. You're going to Aunt Mary's tonight."

"And play wif Uncle David?" he asked.

"Yup. And your cousin, James," Emma told him.

Chris seemed to brighten at the news. "Ok, Mommy. I'm ok."

"Good, buddy, I'm glad," Emma said before she nodded toward Regina. "Hey, we didn't get a chance to talk with the round of 20 questions. So, hi."

Regina smiled, softly. "Hello, Emma. How are you? My son didn't give you too much trouble."

"Other than mild dehydration, I'm ok," the younger woman informed her. "And Roland is the best-behaved teenager I have ever met. Wanna trade? Mine is housebroken."

Shaking her head at Emma's words, the older women chuckled. "No. I made him. I'm a little attached to him. But thank you."

"So, how's your hands, slugger?" Emma asked, with a playful smirk.

"They're fine like I told Roland," Regina told her. "The swelling's gone down and nothing's broken."

"That's good."

"I had a good nurse. Though her bedside manner needs work."

This time Emma threw her head back and laughed. "That's true. Well, lemme know if you need me to play nurse again."

Regina smirked. "Will you wear the outfit?"

"Pfft, of course," Emma jested. "How else would you know that I was a nurse without the outfit?"

All she could do was laugh. Even if she was currently trying to stop herself from picturing the younger woman in a nurse outfit. Regina ended up changing the subject again to avoid giving herself away.

"Christopher's going to have a sleepover of his own?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah. My nephew, James has been asking about him all week. So my sister suggested a sleepover. And honestly, I could use the break. I'll pick him up tomorrow before I come here. And about that, do you need me to bring anything?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Regina replied. "Only promise that you'll bring this adorable little boy with you tomorrow and we'll call it even."

The younger woman beamed at her. "I can do that. I'll see you tomorrow, Regina."

Chris waved. "Bye, Miss 'Gina."

Regina smiled and glanced at the little boy. "Goodbye, Christopher. Be good for your aunt and uncle." Then she met Emma's gaze. "Until tomorrow evening, Emma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Monday will be the next update. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. You can find me on Tumblr as MurderouslyAdorkable, Twitter @LesbianCalamity, and I have a Discord Server called All of the Femslash so if you want to chat about Femslash stuff, drop me a message and I'll send you a link to the server. Cheers everyone. See you next Monday.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma drops her youngest son off at her sister's house and Mary Margaret knows what happened the night before at the Rabbit Hole. Well, not the whole story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning/Content Warning: Mentions of mental illness and self-harm. 
> 
> I promise that I don't hate Snow as much as it might seem with my writing. I just have a judgmental older sister who is kind of the worst. So this is one of those art imitating life moments. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

_Well things can be broken down  
_ _In this world of ours.  
_ _You don't have to be a famous person  
_ _Just to make a mark.  
_ _A mother can be an inspiration  
_ _To her little son and  
_ _Change his thoughts, his mind, his life,  
_ _Just with her gentle hum… hum...  
_ _So different, yet so the same;  
_ _Two sisters, only have their parents to blame.  
_ _It's rare that two can get along,  
_ _But when they do, they're inseparable.  
_ _Such a blessing comes to few... few..._

"Mommy…" Chris sounded from his car seat in the back.

Emma turned the music down so she could hear him better. "Yeah, buddy. What's up?"

"No singing, Mommy."

Kids. They always keep it honest. And if Emma was honest, she didn't tend to listen to anything made passed the late 90s. After her second married imploded, Emma couldn't listen to a single song that reminded her of Killian or Lily — or adulting in general. So she retreated into music that was made before her failed foray against unconventional romance. She just couldn't be brought back to that place. It never worked out for her to be reminded of her failure, both as a partner but also as a mother. It wasn't something one forgot. But Emma did her best. The results had been mixed at best.

She chuckled at her son's words. "Ok, buddy. Want me to change it?"

He shook his head. "No. I wike it."

"Ok. Just no singing. Got it."

Emma's sister's house was a quaint little cottage on a quiet street. As far as away from their childhood neighborhood as she and her husband, David could afford. It was just big enough for their small family. Two bedrooms, a spacious yard. Room enough for a dog. A couple actually. But Emma didn't see any when she pulled into the driveway behind her brother-in-law's truck. However, she spotted a tall blond man with light sky blue eyes. He was wearing what he usually did. Flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. Emma didn't think she had ever seen him in anything else.

Even her overbearing older sister couldn't break him of that.

"Uncle David!" Christopher all but shrieked in excitement as Emma got out of the Bug and rounded the back.

"Is that my little nephew I hear in the back seat?" David called as he stepped off the porch to greet her. "Hey, Emma. How are you?"

They hug as they parted she shrugged. "It's a good day."

His brow crinkled with concerned. "You sure? Because I heard what happened with Keith last night."

Emma's voice dropped an octave. "He started it. I ended it. That's it. Nothing to worry about."

"Mary doesn't think so," David informed her.

She sighed looking around the back because she knew her sister was probably gardening (she tended to do that when she was upset) and then looked back at David. "I'll handle it. Can you get the kiddo?"

"Sure thing," her brother in law said. "I figured he could help me wake James up from his nap."

"He'll like that." Emma grinned and opened the car door, telling her youngest. "Be good for your Uncle David. I'll be right back. I love you."

"I wove you more!" she heard his little voice call out.

Emma threw over her shoulder. "I love you the most."

"I wove you the mostest, Mommy."

She smiled. "I love you to the moon and back."

"Me too, Mommy."

Her smile faded the second she saw her sister, kneeling in front of a flower bed in the back of the house.

Mary Margaret Blanchard — well, Nolan now. They were half sisters. Same mom. Different fathers. Mary was older by almost 13 years and they looked similar though their coloring was different. Emma was taller and coltish and had blond hair like her father. Mary was shorter and shapely with black hair; she looked like their mother's clone. But it was their eyes and the similar shapes of their faces that made their familial connection very clear.

"Hey, Sister," Emma greeted.

"Don't 'Hey, Sister,'" Mary held up and hand before she rose to her feet. "I saw Keith. I saw what you did to him."

The younger sister scoffed. "What  _I_  did? He came at me."

"That's an excuse, Emma," the older sister fired back. "You are 33. Henry is 15. Christopher is almost 5. You can't keep doing these things."

"Doing what things?" Emma asked. "Defend myself against an asshole?"

Mary took a step closer and she whispered, "That's not what I'm talking about. One of the signs of hypomania is reckless behavior."

"Not everything is my crazy bipolar brain, Mary." Emma's words were firm. But truth be told she was tired of having this conversation. She had a mental illness. But she wasn't just a walking ball of bipolar disorder. Not everything she did was the start of a manic episode or a depressive one. However, Mary treated her like that was the case and she constantly read too much into Emma's actions when sometimes you kick a bigot in the face not because you're sick but because he's being a bigot.

_And that shit is just so fucking annoying, dude._

"Were you drinking last night?" Of course, Mary changed the subject.

"Yes."

Her sister sighed. "Emma, you know you can't drink."

"It was one beer, Mary." And then another. And a few shots. She didn't need to know that, though. "I spent time with Ruby. And then I talked with Henry's friend's mother. It didn't seem like a good time to stop and warn her. 'Hey, so I shouldn't drink because I have Bipolar II but please feel comfortable sending my son's only friend to my house.' I'm pretty sure that wouldn't have gone over well."

"Are you still seeing Dr. Hopper?" Another subject change. Perfect.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yes. I'm still taking my meds. I've been ok. Where is this coming from?"

"You know where."

She shook her head. "That's unfair. You can't keep throwing that in my face."

"You tried to hurt yourself. It's not completely unfair."

Emma's jaw set tight. "That was almost 4 years ago. Stop acting like I'm a walking ticking time bomb."

"I'm just making sure you're ok," Mary told her. "I can't go through that again."

Emma opened her mouth to say something snarky and probably mean. But David and the boys came out of the back door. And those words died in her throat as her son and little nephew came to greet her.

"Aunt Emma! Aunt Emma!"

"Jimmy!" She held out her arms and a little boy with bright blond hair and green eyes came running over. Emma scooped him up and kissed him on the cheek. "How is my favorite little nephew? Hmm?"

"Good…" He giggled.

"Are you happy that you get to play with your cousin?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Emma put him down. "That's good. Play nice. You're family." She looked very pointedly at her sister. "You try not to hurt your family." Then she called her son over and got down to his level. "You be good for your Aunt Mary and your Uncle David. And be nice to your cousin." When Chris didn't meet her eyes, she gently cupped his face. "Look at me, Christopher." Only then did he look up. "I love you."

He grinned. "I wove you, too. Sooooo much."

"To the moon and back." She kissed his forehead. "I'll be back in the morning to get you. Then we're gonna hang out, me and you."

"Then we go to Miss Gina's?" Chris asked hopefully.

She smiled. "Yeah. Then we're gonna go to Miss Regina's and have dinner. Now go play."

"Who's Miss Regina?" David inquired as the boys tore off chasing each other around the backyard.

"Henry's best friend, Roland," Emma began. "Regina is his mother."

"Emma saw her at the Rabbit Hole last night," Mary informed him in a tone that made her younger sister cut her eyes.

"Oh?" David looked at Emma and smiled. "Was she with you when…?"

"Yeah. She was. She actually helped. And if you saw her, you'd understand why Keith wants to go around saying it was all me." Emma chuckled, remembering that one-two combo that Regina had for Keith. If she was in Neverland and had some pixie dust, that'd be her happy thought. "Because he'd never live down the fact that it was a tiny woman in a dress and heels who put him on his as— butt ."

David laughed with her until he caught Mary's look and he cleared his throat. "I'll walk you to the Bug, Emma. I've got to get something from my truck anyway."

They walk to the front in silence until they were out of earshot. Then David spoke.

"So you and this woman, Regina, you two beat up Keith?"

Emma nodded. "You should have seen it. It was amazing. We were talking…" She relayed the whole story to him leaving out no detail, ending with, "...And after she laid him out, I threw his keys, kicked him in the face, and dialed up the Station. Then we left."

"He really said that?" David asked. "He thought that you and Regina were…?"

"Yeah, and yeah," Emma confirmed. "For that alone, I should have fucking decked him."

Her brother-in-law smiled, knowingly. "Which part being an asshole or thinking you and Regina were together?"

She shook her head at him as she got into her car. "The first one. Being confused for Regina's girlfriend? Not so much. It did wonders for my self-esteem."

He laughed. "Be careful, Em'. Don't go getting a crush on your son's best friend's mother. Not only would that be a mouthful to say, think of how you'd raise the children."

Emma gave him the bird. "We'd raise our children to be awesome, obviously. Also, fuck you, David."

"Love you too, Emma."

Her brother-in-law waved as she pulled out of the driveway. And Emma's mind went over what he said. Like she didn't already know that. Her brow furrows and she reaches for a cigarette. Normally, she wouldn't dare to smoke in her car. But he got in her head.

"Fuck you, David," she grumbled to herself. "Going around, dehancing my calm. Asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, there's no Regina in this chapter. There's actually no Regina in the next two chapters. But it's more to set up Emma's family dynamic. Chapter 15 will be the start of Sunday Dinner. 
> 
> Well, hopefully, you still liked the chapter. And I'll see you next Monday with an update. Thanks for reading.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma visits her mom and then gets an unexpected visit from the Sheriff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: For implied long-term substance abuse. 
> 
> This chapter goes out to all of the people that have complicated relationships with problematic parents. 
> 
> So, I looked up if you can smoke pot and still be a deputy, and I didn't find anything that says you couldn't. Which is weird. But I also didn't really look, because I don't care. It's a story. So if this isn't a real thing, all I'm asking is for a little bit of a suspension of disbelief with this.

The Bottoms could have been something out of a terrible movie written by someone who didn't know how poor people lived. Because this couldn't be something that existed in a First World Country, and yet — there it was. One knew they were in the Bottoms of Storybrooke when the buildings went from brick storefronts and colonial houses to boarded up skeletons of old businesses and hollowed out homes that were gutted by the ravages of time and neglect. And then, of course, there was the trailer park. Sunny Side Park.

Emma's childhood home.

Just the sound of her tires kicking up gravel was enough to bring her back. Her memories of her formative years were always in this golden hazy glow that hid the darkness underneath. Because this wasn't the story of some wholesome family that was poor but not poor in spirit. This was the story of a family that was rooted in shadows and pain. This was the place that doomed Emma to a loveless marriage. Twice.

In a little trailer on the very end under an oak tree, Emma learned that love could coexist with pain, that our protectors are sometimes are imperfect and selfish and cruel, and that love always came with a price. But it was ok. Because nothing was free. No one was perfect. The world was cruel. And being alive meant suffering. Life in Sunny Side, in a little trailer on the end, just prepared her for the real world.

She parked next to the trailer behind an old Buick on blocks. Emma remembered summer nights watching scary movies huddled in the back with her older sister. And her mother smoking cigarettes in the front seat. But those were her happiest moments. Maybe that's why the smell of White Diamonds and Virginia Slims was so comforting. Childhood was weird that way.

As soon as Emma got out of the Bug she lit a cigarette and walked into the trailer without knocking. Her mother wouldn't mind.

"Ma'!" she called out. "You alive?"

Wellness check. Mary Margaret wouldn't do it. So it was up to Emma. She didn't mind it. Her relationship with their primary caregiver wasn't as contentious. It was by no means perfect. But it didn't always descend into a vitriolic shouting match. Besides, she didn't want her mother to go the way of Emma's grandmother. Dead for over a month. And none of her children had ever thought to check on her. It spoke to a woman that no one loved. And as fucking problematic as her trashy mother was, Emma loved her.

It was the smell of stale Virginia Slims that caused her to let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Then the sound of wet hacking before a woman in her 60s came shuffling into view. The room was dark, windows blotted out, curtains drawn, but still, her mother squinted as if she was trying to look directly at the sun.

Eva Blanchard had once been a beautiful woman. But she had come of age in the early 1970s. Where the hopeful optimism of the late 60s had given way to a sort of carpe diem generation with a live fast and die young kind of attitude. These were the children that had watched their older brothers and cousins go off to war and never come back. It was a generation of people that wanted to dance until they dropped. And Eva, she did everything that she ever wanted to do. She snorted everything she could fit up her nose and when the money ran out like it always did, she smoked rocks until she lost most of her teeth. There had been a running joke among her mother's friends that Emma's sister was going to be named Snow White because — well…

"Princess..." Her mother grinned as she sat down in her favorite chair. "You don't have to keep doing this. I'm fine."

Emma sat down on the couch, sliding the giant crystal ashtray over to them. She took a drag of her cigarette and patted her mother's knee. "Ma', you know I can't do that."

Eva cupped her cheek. "You were always my favorite."

It wasn't true. But Eva was so hurt by Mary's refusal to have her in her life that Emma went from last to first. In name only, though. Emma reminded Eva too much of her father. So they never really connected. Not in the way a mother and daughter should have. Still, Emma was duty bound to make sure her mother didn't just fade away, forgotten.

Emma pulled out a joint and her mother's grin widen. "That's my little swan."

"For later," she instructed. "I've got a little more in my pocket. I'll leave it with you."

"Thank you, Princess."

It hurt. It always hurt when she saw her like this. Her mother had once been everything she ever wanted to be. But could never live up to. And now it was like watching someone else that looked like her mother but wasn't anymore. It was hard. It was unbelievably hard. She was watching someone slowly waste away. And it wasn't cancer. It wasn't dementia. But it was a sickness of the mind all the same.

"Henry got into a fight at school," Emma informed her mother.

"I heard you got into a fight too," Eva reminded her with a sly, knowing smirk. "You and that Keith boy never got along."

Emma tapped her cigarette on the ashtray. "That's because he's an asshole, Ma'."

Eva shook her head. "That's not why. To him, you'll always be the girl that stole his best friend."

"I didn't steal him."

"No, but he doesn't see it that way." Then her mother chuckled. "When are you going get back on the horse? You know what they say, Princess, third time's a charm."

Emma laughed. "Oh, no. Not doing that again. I'm starting to realize that I'm one of those Princesses that doesn't get the happily ever after at the end."

"You just haven't met the right prince yet."

"Kinda had my fill of princes, Ma'."

Again a knowing smile blossomed on her mother's face.

"Maybe another princess then?" Off of Emma's horrified look, her mother cackled. "What? A mother knows these things. And I've always known about you. You and that girl. The blond one. Best friends. Pfft. Best friends didn't look at each other the way you two did."

"Ok, Ma', so this has been fun," Emma said, standing up and dropping a small bag of pot on her mother's coffee table. "I'm going to be by tomorrow before I pick up Chris and drop off some food."

"You don't have—"

"Ma', I'll be back tomorrow, ok? I love you."

"I love you, too, Princess," her mother said. "To the moon and back."

After leaving her mother's trailer, Emma did a few errands. Picked up a pizza because why the hell not? And then headed back home just as the sun was setting in the early evening. She was greeted with the Sheriff's cruiser parked outside her house and a tall, slender man, with curly brown hair was standing just outside of it. He waved awkwardly when he saw her pull up.

"Graham," Emma called as she got out of her car, holding two boxes of pizza in one hand, a few plastic bags in the other. "Lemme just put this stuff up. You can come inside if you want."

He nodded and followed her toward the front door. "I'm sorry, Emma. You know I don't want to have to do this."

"No," she waved him off as she somehow got the door open. "I get it. But Keith came at me. I've got a witness."

"I know that. And there were cameras. I saw what happened," Graham explained as he held the door for her. "It's just I have to follow up with this."

This time Emma nodded. "How is he?"

"A busted up face and a bruised ego," Graham told her. "He'll live."

Emma moved inside the house and sighed. "That's good."

She could hear Graham chuckle as he followed her inside. "Don't sound so thrilled, Emma."

"You know it's not that," she told him. "Me and Keith just have a history."

"I know that too," Graham replied. "But here's the thing, Keith is riding a desk right now and that leaves me down a man… or woman. Depending on what she says."

Emma scoffed. "You're fucking joking."

"No, I'd deputize you right now," the Sheriff said.

"Graham, look at me. I'm tattooed. I have two kids. I'm crazy. And I smoke more weed than Willie Nelson on tour," Emma reasoned. "Why are you asking me of all people?"

He smiled. "Emma, none of those things actually disqualify you. Yes, even the mental illness and the pot. Don't do it on the clock, stay on your meds, and we'll be ok. And if you say yes, we never had this conversation. Just promise that you'll think about it, alright? We'll have lunch Monday and you can give me your answer then. I'm going to get out of your hair. Enjoy your evening. And try not to fight any more of my deputies."

She laughed. "I'll do my best."

After he was gone she settled in, going over what just happened. Being a deputy. She couldn't pass a background check. And if Killian was still in the Seattle P.D... If he was still looking for her… She couldn't risk it. She'd tell Graham on Monday. And she had two days to decide whether or not she should lie.

That was the burning question on her mind when her eyes fluttered shut and sleep took her on the couch, as she tried to catch up on the Handmaid's Tale, a bong still on the coffee table with a bowl half-smoked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. We have one more Emma chapter without Regina before we get to Sunday Dinner. And I'll see you next week. :D

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr. Sometimes I'm hilarious. I've got to update my tumblr page and start archiving my work there which will be happening in over the next few months. Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you guys go about your lives. I'm MurderouslyAdorkable on tumblr. Thanks peeps. 
> 
> I'm going to try to update this fic every Monday.


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